The Demon of the Galactic World (REDUX)
by IAmSecretlyNotRonnie300Fan91
Summary: Dâgalûr, the most powerful of the Orcs of Mordor, was ripped from his homeland. Stuck in a galaxy ruled by several nations, divided yet united against a common foe, he joined the crew of The Normandy, under Commander Jane Shepard, and went on a quest to save this new, strange universe and crack some skulls along the way.
1. Prologue: From the Domain of Shadow

**Author's Note:** Hey, everybody, name's IAmSecretlyNotRonnie300Fan91 (SPOILER: I actually am). I've been working on refining this story for a while, but never had the guts to publish it here. I finally built up the courage to publish it here, and, well, here it is. This is my first story, so constructive criticism that will allow me to strengthen my writing is welcome and appreciated, but flames and pure hate reviews will not be tolerated. This story begins during Shepard's first visit to the Citadel in Mass Effect 1, and directly before the Ringwraiths depart from Minas Morgul. I plan on writing another fic that will serve as a backstory for Dâgalûr, our protagonist/anti-hero, but that won't be released until I reach the end of the events of Mass Effect 2 in this fic, as to avoid massive spoilers (even the first chapter of my planned origin story would completely spoil this fic). Also, this fic is rated M for a reason. Expect copious amounts of blood/gore and a good amount of cursing, ranging from mild to severe (f-bombs will be dropped casually at times). I am not responsible for anybody's reaction to the cruelty and indecency shown in this story. There will be romantic encounters, but most of the smut will be included only in special edited versions of chapters that will not be posted here because Fiction-MA isn't permitted on this site. You've been warned. You didn't come to read my ramblings, so let us begin this journey.

 _ **NOTES:**_ Some elements from various video game adaptations of _The Lord of the Rings_ (Namely _Middle Earth: Shadow of Mordor, Middle Earth: Shadow of_ _War_ (for which there will be **MAJOR** spoilers), _War In The North, The Third Age,_ and _The_ _Battle For Middle Earth II_ ) are going to be taken as canonical, along with various references to other universes/IPs and various things I made up to fill in the blanks left behind by Tolkien. This fic will primarily use the Peter Jackson film trilogy's depiction of the physical appearance of characters and what not, but the event dates given in the Appendices of _The Return of the King_ will be the dates of the events that occur in Middle-Earth in this fic, and things from the book that weren't included in the films (such as Tom Bombadil and Dol Amroth) will also be referenced or used. I attempted to make this story as canonically faithful to both _The Lord of the Rings_ and the _Mass Effect_ trilogy, but it is not canon for obvious reasons. Dâgalûr and all other OCs that will appear in this story belong to me unless stated otherwise, Middle-Earth and _LOTR_ belong to J.R.R Tolkien and his estate, The _LOTR_ video game license belongs to WB Games, and _Mass Effect_ belongs to Bioware.

* * *

"The world is changed… I feel it in the water… I feel it in the Earth… I smell it in the air… Much that once was is lost. For none now live who remember it." -Galadriel

 _ **The Demon Of The Galactic World**_

"It began with the forging of the great rings. Three were given to the Elves, immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings, seven to the Dwarf lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls, and nine, nine rings were gifted to the race of Men — who above all else, desire power. For within these rings was bound the strength and will to govern each race. But they were all of them deceived; for another ring was made. In the land of Mordor, in the fires of Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged in secret a master ring, to control all others, and into this Ring, he poured his cruelty, his malice, and his will to dominate all life. One Ring to rule them all." -Galadriel

In the beginning, there was nothing. But the Ainur sang the Ainulindalë to create the world. Their beautiful music created Eä, the universe. The song was only intended to create one single universe, but it rippled out into the nothingness. The music traveled beyond the edges of the Void, and its harmony brought life to millions of other universes, each unique in one way or another. The Father took pity upon these universes, blessing each one of them with life, but the Ainur had no knowledge of these universes, only knowing of Eä. The Father made every attempt possible to conceal the existence of these worlds, for fear of the spread of Morgoth's corruption and malevolence, but when sorcerers and apprentices dabble in the arcane arts, the will of The Father, and the workings of the universe- and the many others surrounding it- mean nothing. Dâgalûr, the left hand of the Dark Lord himself, was one such unfortunate soul caught in the crossfire.

An accident in some far-off cult of magic in the East had caused tears in the fabric between universes to open, and one such portal had brought him to a strange new galaxy of different alien races, each with its own culture, achievements, and goals, all pettily squabbling with each other while an ancient evil reared its head. Ripped from his homeland, and with no other options (save jail), He joined the crew of The Normandy SR-1, under Commander Jane Shepard, and embarked on a quest to save this new, strange world from extermination, and hopefully watch his old one burn in the process.

* * *

 _ **Prologue: From The Domain Of Shadow**_

The ash from Mount Doom polluted the air of the tainted landscape, seeping into the plateau's soil and forming thick, dark clouds of smog which blotted the sun's rays. The ever-watching Eye of Sauron looked down upon the barren landscape, its piercing gaze ensuring that nobody entered or escaped from Mordor. The only sounds to be heard were worn bits of metal clanking against metal and inhuman yelps and growls from the pits in the far off distance.

Dâgalûr rode atop Bolgdyr, the once-feared Pack-Leader of Nurnen. He lead a small battalion of the usual lot; sniveling, shrieking orcs from the tribes, men that were either greedy enough or unfortunate enough to come under Sauron's grasp, a feral, frothing warg on a leash here and there, and what not. It was all Dâgalûr had been doing for the last few years. Escort troops at point A to point B, Watch over this, monitor that. It was mind-numbingly boring. It wasn't as if there was an ever-present threat of Mordor being sacked by the Westerners, and he needed to minimize casualties from skirmishes with plunderers. Since the Shadow Wars ended and the tribes united, the only violence to be had was when disputes over plunder occurred.

Dâgalûr yearned for the times he could spread mayhem to the Free Peoples of these lands, but those were few and far apart, much to his dismay. Dâgalûr couldn't wait for Gondor to pay him back for the lives of those he once cared for with the blood of its sons and daughters.

He focused his attention to the task at hand again. "Pick up your feet, you worthless gits! Crack the whips harder before I hang ya from racks 'nd take yer hides as trophies!"

The taskmasters cracked their whips on the backs of the troops much harder, to the point where Dâgalûr could've sworn he heard the snapping and cracking of bones. Blood was dripping down the backs of those unfortunate enough to not have adequate back-plates, indicating the taskmasters were doing their jobs a little too well. Nevertheless, the pace of the troops accelerated to a fast walk as they attempted to evade and escape the lashes. The camp wasn't too far away, but it seemed like it would take an eternity for those being flogged to near-death.

Some of the more rebellious among the rabble began to instinctively speak out against Dâgalûr, despite knowing their punishment would increase tenfold.  
"Woi's it dat we's gotta suffa woile yer fat arse gets ter push us 'round? You's ain't even a real orc!" cried a sniveling, pus-yellow runt.

"Yeah, right, 'e's right! Roight! I'm bloody well not takin' dis shite from yer!" yelled an unsightly brown Uruk.

One of his own taskmasters was the next to attack him verbally. "They's got a point! Oi! You's so chummy wiv Sauron, right, but you's nuffink more than a 'og in armor. If we kill yer, we're bound ter 'ave yer place by 'is side!"

That little outburst was nothing short of mutiny. Dâgalûr swiftly dismounted Bolgdyr, his boots crunching the pebbles underneath. He shoved his way past many a man and orc before he reached the orcs who foolishly opened their gobs. He may have been heavy, but he was no pushover.  
"OI! LEMME SHOW'S YA 'OW I CLIMBED ME WAY UP TER DA TOP!" He screamed, tackling the smallest among them.

A circle formed around the four orcs. The bystanders roared with glee as they watched the carnage unfold. The taskmaster jumped up on Dâgalûr's back, and tried to dig his claws into Dâgalûr's throat while he focused on the small one, but he responded to this by falling backwards, crushing the bones of the taskmaster with a sickening crunch. A 300-pound half-uruk in a 100-pound suit of armor was no match for the frail frame of the orc, and he choked and sputtered on his own blood, his windpipe damaged beyond repair. The crowd dragged his body into the fray, and tore into his flesh while he let out wheezy shrieks.

The Uruk took the opportunity to kick Dâgalûr while he was on the ground, causing him to vomit, but broke his toes by doing so. He yelped in pain, clenching his foot, and Dâgalûr rose, wiping the spittle from his mouth. He growled, drew a small dagger from his belt, and dashed towards the Uruk, who blocked the stab with his spear just in time. The small Orc ran up to Dâgalûr while he was distracted and slammed a mace into his leg, sending him to the ground once more.

"Not so 'igh and moighty now, are yer, git?" the orc said.

The orc was cut off by a sweeping kick by Dâgalûr. He fell to the ground and his head connected with a large rock, opening up an unsightly wound. The Uruk went in for vengeance while Dâgalûr dealt with the orc, but was swiftly taken down to the ground with a punch to the temple as Dâgalûr turned around. Black, viscous blood began to leak from his nose as he stumbled about in a haze. Dâgalûr took the opportunity to grab the orc's head and continuously slam it into the rock until nothing but a pulpy mixture of blood, brain matter, cartilage, and skull bits remained. The crowd quickly swarmed the carcass and began to dig in, just as they had with the taskmaster's remains.

"Two down, one more ter go."

The Uruk was unable to recover fast enough before he felt Dâgalûr's clawed gauntlets digging into his stomach. His vision was blurred, but he could feel an excruciating pain coming from his midsection as something wet and slippery gripped around his neck. Soon enough he realized he was being strangled with his own intestines. The light began to drain out of his eyes as the Uruk drew his last breaths, his remains left by the crowd for the Morgul Bats and crows to pick apart.

"Oi!," Dâgalûr began to huff and puff from exhaustion. "get a move on, ladz! One rabble ain't gon ter meen you's all gets a break!"

He remounted Bolgdyr and began to catch his breath, taking a flask from another Uruk as he reached for the reins. He opened it up and inspected its contents. The putred smell could only be one thing: grog. Dâgalûr took a few swigs from the flask before tossing it back to the Uruk. He felt somewhat rejuvenated from the drink, but it would not heal his leg injury, the claw marks on his throat, and the many bruises from his falls.

The battalion continued their march as the taskmasters became increasingly unforgiving with their duty. By the time the unit reached the camp, a trail of tar-like blood had been left behind, and it stretched several yards back. Those unlucky enough to be struck multiple times had lost so much blood that they could barely stand, most collapsing from exhaustion. It seeped through their armor and stained their crude cloth shirts with a deep black hue. A few casualties was nothing to Dâgalûr. Death and injury were simply as much a part of life in Mordor as sharp, pointy objects and freezing cold ash-winds were. The job was done, and that's what mattered. Orcs were being produced in the vats by the hundreds every day, a few dead ones wouldn't cripple their numbers.

Dâgalûr no longer had remorse or compassion for most who dwelled in Middle-Earth. Everything and everyone he'd ever loved had been taken from him long ago, and his behavior since then had teetered on sociopathy. His shattered conscience took a back seat to the only thing he cared about now, and that was _vengeance_. He would do anything or kill anyone to get it, even those he considered to be the few true friends he had. He was the son of slain parents, the husband to a murdered wife, a father to three butchered children, and the master of a slaughtered apprentice. Not one of them had done anything to deserve such a fate their entire lives, so there was _no_ reason whatsoever that they were either left lying in pools of their own blood or hung from gibbets. Dâgalûr had done some fairly despicable things up to that point himself, but that didn't justify _their_ deaths. Gondor had just waltzed in, called for a crusade to take back what they claimed to be their lands, razed the quaint little village Dâgalûr and his wife had settled down in, and raped and massacred everyone who resisted them even slightly.

The worst thing about it was that he was not even close to being the only victim; that had happened repeatedly in villages and towns that bordered Gondorian territory at various intervals over the last few hundred years or so. He had found his apprentice as an infant in the aftermath of one such raid while scouring the rubble for supplies. Crusade after crusade had been called upon by the corrupt and rotten Stewards throughout the years, though a large chunk of the Gondorian Armed Forces opposed the raiding and sacking (Unless it was _Orc_ settlements in question, then there was no hesitation from any of them, down to the last imp). Dâgalûr didn't care, however; they were still to be held accountable for their peers committing such atrocities regardless of whether they wanted to commit them or not.

Dâgalûr's blood boiled at the thought that the Kingdom of Gondor were commonly held up as altruistic by the other cultures of Middle-Earth, when in reality they were nothing more than a band of bloodthirsty tyrants posing as paragons. " _History is written by the victors, and the victors will write the truth about Gondor._ " was a thought that he commonly recited in his head, often several times a week. Once Gondor was absolutely annihilated, its cities razed to smoldering heaps of ashes, its people slaughtered in droves, its women violated to the fullest extent of indecency and perversion, its children worked to death and devoured by wargs, and its legacy purged from history and memory, he would finally be at peace.

Mordor wasn't much better, but it was still better. At least _they_ had shown him some grudging respect once he had climbed to the top. Dâgalûr was the "left hand" of Mordor, and he greatly enjoyed some of the perks that came with that position, namely all the food he could eat, some of the finest weapons and armor available in all of Middle-Earth ( _especially_ when compared to that crudely sewn leather and cast iron garbage that the footsloggers wore), and a ticket to be spared from the coming darkness that would blanket all of Middle-Earth, but he didn't truly care about Mordor, or Sauron's plight.

Sauron, although a truly gifted and blessed craftsman and smith, was a deceitful, manipulative trickster, and his soldiers and minions were nothing more than puppets to him, but Dâgalûr was able to see through such disregard for others because Mordor sought to eradicate Gondor, and Dâgalûr was a firm believer in the saying 'The enemy of my enemy is my ally'. He didn't care if he was serving under a liar. He saw through the lies, and had worked, fought, and killed his way to the top, and had slowly gained Lord Sauron's favor along the way, even if he was only viewed as a simple instrument to be used against his enemies.

Many orc leaders detested him, the reason varying from captain to captain, from warchief to warchief, and so on. One reason was that he had chosen the promise of power over his own race. Instead of focusing on the history, rituals, and art of his people (however crude and simplistic), Dâgalûr had cast aside the ways of old and become caught up in pushing the war machine and reducing orcs into cannon fodder and pawns, abandoning the traditions and culture of the tribes. He was the most powerful orc in Mordor, yet had forgotten what had made him an orc.

Others fueled their hatred with racism towards the race of men, pointing out his white, blotched skin. His only directly visible distinctions from the average human were the upward slants his alae took in an attempt to resemble a more Orcish, piglike snout, and the small, outlying blotches of dark, leathery skin that painted his body, the most distinct of which being one that covered the left part of his face and forehead, and the yellowed discoloration of the sclera of that eye. 'Halftark-filth' and 'Pinkskin' they would call him.

His mannish appearance was a curse bestowed upon him by his father's lineage. His father's father was a Gondorian, and Dâgalûr was not pleased about it. That same lineage which cursed both him and his father was ultimately his father's downfall, as well. Dâgalûr could still remember the harsh words of his grandfather, a monstrous, hateful man who detested Dâgalûr with all his being. The curses and insults he spewed out about Dâgalûr often haunted him as he thought of the hatred he held for Gondor. The noises of his mother's shrieks and wails as she watched her only child escape from a fate she would soon meet drove a knife through Dâgalûr's now twisted, blackened heart.

* * *

Dâgalûr was too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice that someone was trying to gain his attention. It was one of his lieutenants, a bloated, fat orc with heavy facial scarring, leaving him with no visible nose. He held a long, metal staff, the end of which bore a vibrant red cast of the Great Eye. Laga was his name, and he was chiefest of the sorcerers and librarians that followed Dâgalûr.

"BOSS! Listen!"

Dâgalûr snapped out of it, giving Laga a dreadful scowl. "What in tha' hell do you want?"

"Ya need tuh see this." the lieutenant said, as he pointed something about a mile out in the distance.

The only visible feature on the object he was pointing to was a blinding white light radiating from it, as if Varda herself had called down a star from the heavens and it had crashed down into the earth. Smoke and dust clouded Dâgalûr's ability to get a good look at the rest of whatever it was.

"Look, master, over there. Wha' is that? Sum Elvish trickery been slippin' inta 'ere?"

"I dunno, lad, but I'm goin' in alone to check it out. If I'm not back before nightfall, consider me dead." Dâgalûr said.

He kicked Bolgdyr in the sides and tugged at the reins, and the great and terrible caragor set off for the object.

The ride was bumpy, as the ground was littered with stones and thorn bushes that Bolgdyr was forced to navigate around, but the two reached the source of the light fairly quickly. The object in question was a rift of some sorts, several feet tall. A gloriously bright light was shining from it. Dâgalûr had stopped a few feet away from it, and dismounted. He was absolutely dumbfounded and awestruck.

He'd never gazed upon anything even remotely close to it in all his years. He had seen Necromancy and the like before, but no such wizardry or Elven spell-craft had ever been seen within these mountainous borders. Perhaps it was the result of the experiments by some cult far beyond the Eastern Desolation, or even creatures from the stars. Bolgdyr quickly retreated as far away as his paws could carry him, but Dâgalûr didn't even notice the cowardice his steed had demonstrated, as he was too caught up in whatever phenomenon lay before him. He slowly approached it from the rear, only to find it identical to its front.

Dâgalûr contemplated what would happen if he touched it. _"Will I die? Bah, I got nuffin' left to lose. But will I ever come back? Where would I go?_ " These thoughts ran through his head, and he concluded, _"I dun' care about this place. Maybe, if I'm lucky, It'll kill me 'nd take tha world with it!"_ Not knowing what to expect at all, he put his open hand up to it, immediately being enveloped within the second he made contact.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** For those of you reading from 2019 and onwards, this entire story has been significantly reworked and updated, but it still retains the events of the original Prologue, with the flashback sequences removed for pacing. Everything is being reworked in order to provide better dialogue, more realistic interactions between characters, and an overall better reading experience. I've decided to make a Redux version of this story while still keeping the old one to see how much I've grown as a writer these past few years. Until the next update, everyone. Whenever it may be.


	2. Chapter 1: To the Center of the Galaxy

**A/N: The cockney/broken English thing for Orcs is a failed experiment that I'll be discontinuing in future chapters, mainly due to the existence of translation technology in the Mass Effect galaxy. Sorry for the inconvenience.**

 **Oruchack** \- An Orcish drug used to improve performance in battle, usually made by crushing up various mushrooms native to Mordor in a bowl, then pouring Ghûl saliva into the mixture. The tip of a dagger is dipped into the mixture, and the user makes a incision on their arm with the blade so the drug enters their bloodstream, being careful not to cut into an artery. It makes the user enter a trancelike state which renders them virtually immune to pain, but, as a side effect, makes them jittery and jumpy, much like a caffeine or sugar rush. I literally just pulled it out of my ass, like I'll be doing with most things in orc culture.

 **Translations:** "Ka'aal ekh shabaaz-ri burga, tark-palayi" - "I'll not be taken prisoner, filthy tark!"

Tolkien still owns LOTR, and Bioware still owns Mass Effect.

* * *

 ** _Chapter One: To The Center of the Galaxy_**

A chill ran down Dâgalûr's spine as he opened his eyes. He looked around to study his newfound surroundings, but he was enveloped in nothingness. He stood upon the cold, dismal shore of an endless sea of darkness. He didn't know if he could still consider himself among the living. Was this Ilúvatar punishing Dâgalûr for his wickedness in life? Had Morgoth called him to the shadow beyond the Gates of Night? He didn't _feel_ dead, but he couldn't think of another plausible scenario. Time did not pass here as it had in Arda. Seconds felt like hours in this void.

Dâgalûr floated about in this stretch of shade, as if submerged under the waves of Nurnen. One of the beaten, battered cloth sacks he kept his personal possessions in loosened from his belt, attempting to escape the confines of Dâgalûr's grasp. He quickly snatched it, and tightened his belt to ensure it couldn't leave him again. His worn Dwarvish eyeglasses, coated with filth and dust, also tried to loosen themselves from his face, but he pushed them back to the top of the bridge of his flat nose. He closed his eyes and pondered about his situation, shortly realising that there was no chance of him escaping, but he wouldn't go quietly into the night.

Dâgalûr parted his dry lips and let out a deep, threatening bellow in a futile attempt to intimidate whoever had trapped him in this realm, turning his head back and forth to ensure the sound traveled far and wide. He was only met with an echo, which quickly faded into silence. Each repeat of the bellow disheartened him, as he finally realized he was helpless in this place, and that his fate was out of his control now.

Dâgalûr removed the knotted rope from one of his sacks, and grabbed a small, brass locket from within, quickly retying the cloth. He gently caressed the necklace, and unlocked and opened it slowly. Inside the left half of the locket was a portrait of a woman, no more than 35 years of age. She wore a fine crimson dress with gold trimming around the shoulders, which complemented her caramel skin quite well. Her raven hair curled and fell past her shoulders, and her light brown eyes shimmered in the lighting of the painting. Her nose was fairly small, and she had a half-smile plastered on her face. The portrait only showed the upper torso and shoulders of the woman, but one could tell that her frame was fairly small and petite.

Inside of the other half of the locket, there was another portrait, but this one was of three children. The two boys in the back were roughly 16 years old, and the young girl standing up front couldn't have been older than nine or ten.

The boy on the left was distinctly Orcish in both face and build, with whitish skin and an almost flattened nose, the bridge of which almost merged with his face, while the alae stretched upwards to a slant. He bore dark stubble across his face and neck, and bright, blue eyes. His smile bared his yellow, pointed teeth, a trait he got from his Orcish blood, no doubt. The jawless head of a warg adorned his helmet, and he was dressed in various animal skins that covered bronze greaves and gauntlets. Two thick, leather bandoilers we're draped around his furry chest, crossing in an X shape. Each bandoiler had a small pocket situated near the shoulder region, and both were visibly filled with various bits and souvenirs taken from kills.

The boy on the right stood one head shorter than his brother, and was much more man-like in appearance. He had a lighter shade of the caramel complexion of the woman in the adjacent portrait, and his eyes had the same vibrant blue irises of his brother, but had a fairly standard, mannish nose. His face was clean shaven, and his black hair was short and neat. He was dressed in a red and black garb underneath a lamellar breastplate, fingerless gloves, and boots made from tanned leather. Upon his back, he had a large, woven backpack, containing many scrolls and letters, and in his hands, he held a papyrus scroll in his right, and a feathered quill in his left.

In front of the two boys stood a young girl, who seemed to be a smaller replica of the woman in the other portrait. She also had the caramel skin, brown eyes and raven hair of her mother, but her nose was flatter and her build was slightly more thick. She wore a forest-green tunic, several golden bracelets on her wrists, and a pair of basic Haradric sandals.

As Dâgalûr looked at the portraits, he understood that his quest to avenge his family's death had been cut short. They had been taken far too early by the Gondorian rats, fit only for a stew-pot. Every _tark_ that still drew breath was an affront to Dâgalûr's very existence. Bitter, angry tears began to well up in his eyes, a mix of frustration, rage, and sorrow.

"Nusaybah, my beloved," he said, putting his finger on the portrait of the woman, "I've failed ya'. Fotkûrz, Hannad, your father has failed ya'. Firyal, my sweet little girl, papa can't make the bad men pay for wha' they did to ya'." Dâgalûr choked out, barely able to keep his composure.

Dâgalûr quickly shut the locket, and stuffed it back into the bag. He proceeded to cup his hands, and buried his face in his thick gloves, weeping softly. He was on the verge of completely breaking down, something that happened frequently when alone. He was forced to remember the sight of his daughter's corpse laying in a pool of blood on the stone floor of his home, its embers slowly dying and fading. Dâgalûr's children had their whole lives ahead of them. Hannad was one of the apprentice scribes of Sibroc, religious leader of Harad, said to be the very avatar of Ru'Hal, before the Gondorians gutted him like a fish. Fotkûrz had completed his bloodrite and earned the title 'The Slasher' just days before he was beheaded. Firyal was carefree and loved everything and everyone in life before she was deflowered and set ablaze.

Dâgalûr was sobbing at this point. All the years he spent training, all the time he spent planning, all the blood he spilled in their names, all of it was wasted. His crusade would never be fulfilled.

He yelled at the top of his lungs to the heavens above, "DAMN YOU, FALSE GODS! DAMN YOU ALL TO THE VOID!", and proceeded to recover his face with his hands.

As his tears began to dry, he began to come to terms with the fact that he was most likely never escaping this prison. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and tried to accept his newfound torture to the best of his abilities.

Just as Dâgalûr began to do this, his eyes began to burn, as if they had been gouged out with red hot pokers. He let out and inhuman screech, and violently began rubbing them with his palms to attempt to alleviate the pain, but to no avail. All he could see was bright, piercing light as a loud, shrill, mechanical shriek assaulted his eardrums. He tried using his hands to block it out, but it only ever so slightly helped. The area around him had shifted from a cold, dark void to a bright expanse of pure, unsullied white. Dâgalûr was suddenly and violently thrust forward by an unknown force, and crashed down onto solid ground, knocking him unconscious.

* * *

Upon his awakening, Dâgalûr could barely see anything, and his ears were ringing. He didn't have the strength nor the willpower to look up, but he could hear collective, muffled gasps and people talking to each other. What they were saying sounded like gibberish to him, which would've normally been grounds for suspicion for Dâgalûr, but he no longer seemed to care. His face was pressed against the cold, hard tiling of the ground, but the air around him was warm and slightly humid, a radical difference from the freezing, arid winds of Gorgoroth. The insulation in his armor was meant to explicitly keep the cold out, and became uncomfortable.

He looked to his side and saw that the walls were made of a sleek, chrome metal, sheets of which were layered on top of each other to give the impression of a shutter-like pattern. They reflected a dim, bluish-white light cast from two oval devices attached to the wall to his right. He finally mustered the strength to look up, but what he saw in front of him confused and, to an extent, even frightened him.

There were people... no, not people. _Monsters_ was a better word to describe them. They wore confusing garb, shimmering, flexible, and covered with vibrant shades of color, the likes of which were not found in Middle-Earth. Armor, perhaps? No, it looked far too soft and fabric-like. Nevertheless, most of them looked at him with an expression of horror, as if he were some void-spawned abomination. Some of them looked like the pinkskins his blade was well acquainted with. Some like blue-skinned women with a head of tentacles. Others like lizard-people from some deep, unexplored part of the jungles of Far Harad, with massive, dark eyes and slim builds. There was a crowd of them standing behind a few strips of yellow tape blocking off the alley Dâgalûr was lying down in.

Behind the crowd, neon red lights illuminated various stalls, and fluorescent, flickering lights were situated at the back of the area. Three of the closest entities were bird-demons of some sort, who looked like their faces had been sculpted from the rocks and obsidian of Mount Doom, with broad chests and knees bent in the opposite direction. They were pointing... things at him, small and compact. Weapons, possibly? He knew that they would use them if he provoked them.

Dâgalûr could see the creatures moving their mouths (which was quite a horrific sight to him, as their "cheeks" appeared to detach and move freely about as they spoke, revealing rows of needle like teeth), but he couldn't understand what they said. It was nothing but clicks and whistles with distorted, unintelligible words mixed in. He knew they were peacekeepers of some sort, but he didn't particularly care for their authority.

He slowly pressed himself up with his arms and got to his knees, pushing backwards in order to get to his feet. This seemingly provoked the demons and the crowd, who stared at him, wide-eyed. A fourth "officer" confronted the other three. She was human, unlike the others, and was clad in a suit of shining black plate armor, a small logo of sorts attached to her breastplate, reading _N7_. She had a look of determination about her, and her scarlet hair seemed as if it were a manifestation of that fiery passion. " _Heh, looks like sumfin' I'd choose as first pick from a caravan raid._ " Dâgalûr thought to himself.

The second she caught sight of Dâgalûr, she instinctively drew her weapon, which was longer and larger than that of the demons. Dâgalûr was starting to fear them less and less and was getting increasingly rage filled as time went on. This little "welcoming party" of sorts was about to get a hell of a lot more violent if Dâgalûr didn't get answers.

The fourth officer finally spoke up, her voice rather deep for a woman, but yet still womanly. "Hands up, NOW!"

Dâgalûr could understand her words and complied, raising his hands above his head. She spoke an offshoot of Westron, the Common Tongue. For this dialect was used rarely among Men, and was almost exclusively used as a sort of "code language" among the Hobbits residing outside of the Shire. Dâgalûr had studied the language extensively for reconnaissance missions, and for his ultimate dreams of living in the countryside, but it was a harsh language to his tongue and throat, as it gnawed and stabbed at his vocal chords. He would only use it as a last resort.

" _Ka'aal_ _ekh shabaaz-ri burga, tark-palayi_!" Dâgalûr exclaimed, his tongue deep, guttural, and foul to the ears.

The officers grabbed at their ears, covering them frantically, as to not have to listen to such a dark and perverse language. Dâgalûr took notice that none had understood what he had uttered, which was somewhat relieving, as he had just hurled an insult at the woman. Nevertheless, he began to clear his throat and braced himself for the incoming pain he would be putting himself through.

"Your tongue... it bites... gnaws... at me..." He stopped himself abruptly, and slowly reached for his throat, a grimace plastered on his face. "I want... answerssss..."

"So do we. Listen, any deviation from what I say will be taken as hostile. Understood?" the officer replied.

Dâgalûr nodded. "Tell your men to... stand down, or I'll... give you naught."

The officer gestured for the other three to lower their weapons. They hesitated, but ended up complying with the order.

Dâgalûr crossed his arms. "Their tongue is... garbled, and filled with clickssss... how do you speakkkk... to them?"

The officer looked somewhat confused. The creature to her left put his head up to her ear and whispered in his language, after which the officer seemed to understand what Dâgalûr had meant.

"Come here." She said, beckoning Dâgalûr over.

He slowly walked forward, keeping wary in case she tried anything.

"Turn around, and put your hands behind your back."

Dâgalûr reluctantly complied. If she attempted to pickpocket or trick him, he'd tear her arms off and beat her head into a bloodied pulp with them. She reached for her partner's belt, and retrieved a set of handcuffs, quickly putting them around Dâgalûr's wrists. The second he felt the tightness of the cuffs, he turned around and lunged at the officers. Dâgalûr let out a ferocious shriek to express his anger at them, baring his crooked, knifelike teeth. All four of the officers drew their weapons in response, and the crowd panicked, backpedaling to a safe distance. He dared not go anywhere near them, or the officers would surely attack him, something he normally would've delighted in.

The officers were all confused. Dâgalûr resembled a human more than anything else even with his orcish deformities, but no human could have produced a sound like that. A beast, maybe, but not a human. Perhaps the creature was a shapeshifter? Since this was first contact, they had to assume that any action was perceived as hostile.

"Get back!" the woman yelled.

Dâgalûr was still growling, but relented. " _No use tryin' ta break deez. Wha'ever weapons dey got, I dun want to find out what they'll do ta me._ ".

"Follow us."

Two of the bird-demons grabbed Dâgalûr by the arms, and the third continued to aim its weapon directly at Dâgalûr's head. They cut the yellow tape, and Dâgalûr saw what he believed to be some sort of market, but he did not at all understand what he saw: the entire area was lit up with lights of every color imaginable, with life forms Dâgalûr could never have imagined. He wondered why Ilúvatar had used the Flame Imperishable to create such nightmarish beings. Was it to punish Dâgalûr yet again?

There were the average humans, which he already knew plenty about, but that was not what confused Dâgalûr. The plethora of abominations that roamed about was. There were the blue-skinned women with tentacles for hair, the lizard-men (who moved and spoke like they had been taken one too many hits from a bowl of _Oruchack,_ Dâgalûr thought), and frog-like beasts with great humpbacks. Massive grey beasts with squid-like faces roamed about, and tall, pink jellyfish floated around, producing bioluminescent pulses from their bodies. Finally, there were small and chubby creatures with some sort of suit on, and the fringed bird-monsters, who, now that Dâgalûr had put some thought into it, were even uglier than the hell-hawks patrolling Mordor's skies.

Dâgalûr thought he was in some form of Hell, and that these were demons meant to frighten him. As much as he wanted to, he thought it best to refrain from killing someone in this world; for now, at least. He was a stranger to these creatures, and he knew not the firepower they possessed here.

The officers had brought Dâgalûr to a shop of some sort, run by one of the lizard men. After some trade off involving an orange, glowing device attached to the human officer's hand, the merchant gave the officer a small earpiece. The officer began attaching the earpiece to the outside of Dâgalûr's right ear. Once the earpiece was secured, the officer switched on the device's microphone.

The officer that held Dâgalûr's left arm spoke to him. "Can you understand us now?"

Why did the blasted thing only translate into this bizarre offshoot? Dâgalûr considered the language to be useless and foul, and greatly preferred Black Speech, or even Haradric, or true Westron. It was still better than nothing, though.

"Yes..."

"Good, because you've got some questions to answer, buddy."

"So do you... demon."

Dâgalûr turned back to actually get a good look at the officer. He had white streaks of paint all around his face. Was it used to intimidate people? Was it a cultural aspect? Dâgalûr didn't really give a shit.

"Sir, it'll be best if you come along with us. We'll answer your questions in due time, but since this is technically first contact, we'll have to get a delegation to study you."

Dâgalûr didn't like the of being studied much, as if he were some oddity. He thought they were going to deceive him, flog him, and pocket his belongings. If they so much as _touched_ his weapons, he'd tear their windpipes out so he could squeeze their screams from them.

"I'm warning ya... touch my weapons... I'll skip rope with your guts."  
"You wanna see what happens if you make another threat?"

Dâgalûr let out a throaty chortle in response.

"We can take it from here, Shepard."  
"Understood."

The woman took her leave, off to Eru knows where, as the demons carried Dâgalûr away to be interrogated.

* * *

After a few minutes of traversing the lot, Dâgalûr was seated in a small office, with naught but a chair and table he was chained to, awaiting this "delegation" of theirs.

Within a minute and a half, Dâgalûr was greeted by one of the blue women and one of the lizards. Behind them, a sight Dâgalûr would never have expected. Something that enraged him to the core.

 _Laga_.

He had followed Dâgalûr beyond the void somehow, directly in opposition to his orders. If there was one thing Dâgalûr couldn't stand from his lackeys, it was disobedience.

"Hello there! I'd like to be the first to officially welcome you into the Galactic Community. We've already spoken with your companion, and we're very excited to work with your race to pave a better future in the millennia to come!" said the blue woman.

"Bah. Save your pity and mercy for someone who will listen and just kill me already." Dâgalûr responded in Black Speech.

"Huh? We're not taking you prisoner, and we don't want to kill you, we want to learn from you!" She replied, also in Black Speech. The language was difficult to pronounce and harsh on her throat and mouth, as was the case for most non-orcs.

Dâgalûr was in awe. She had understood his words? And given a _response_? What spellcraft did they possess that would allow them to learn the Dark Tongue so easily?

"How do you understand me?"

"My species has an innate control over our nervous system, and we can 'mind meld' with other individuals to learn from them, if we've been trained, of course. We did that with your companion over here to decipher your language."

"Sorry, boss" Laga interjected.

"Almost all of our first contact delegations have an Asari with the ability to-"

"Asari? What in the name of Morgoth is that?

"Oh, that's just the name of my race. My name's Sulelsha, by the way."

Asari... it didn't flow of the tongue to Dâgalûr like Uruk did, but it'd do.

"I am Dâgalûr. He is-."

"Laga, yes, we already obtained a wealth of information from him, such as how you worship a diety known as 'Sauron'."

Dâgalûr chuckled at the notion that Sauron was a god. He was a deceiver, naught but a weakling manipulator that commanded hordes through fear.

"We'd like to get you two situated with omni-tools, as well. If you plan on staying on the Citadel, we can also transfer some credits to your names to get you started, but I'd also like to ask you a few questions first."

"Very well. But I hold the right not to answer."

Sulelsha asked them both a myriad of questions, ranging from "What planet do you come from, and what is it like?" to "What color is your blood?", all of which annoyed Dâgalûr and Laga, but it was in their best interest to co-operate. Sulelsha typed each response into a datapad in front of her, and recorded their vocal responses with her omni-tool, which spooked the two Uruks whenever it flashed into view.

"Alright, that seems to be it! Now, to suit you up with your omni-tools and translators. Your language will take time to record, but it shouldn't be _too_ long before we work all the kinks out."

Laga and Dâgalûr were promptly given omni-tools, hooked directly to the armor of their right forearms and hands. Each was equipped with a basic and advanced tutorial to teach the two of them how to use their device, and Each was also given a small, grayish, flat chip. It was visual translator, for future installation in their retinas, which wouldn't come in handy until written Black Speech had been translated to an extent. Luckily, the translators also came with a text-to-speech option as an omni-tool extension.

"I know this may sound a bit overwhelming, but one of you will also need to accompany us to meet the Council. This is too exciting of a proposition for them to pass up meeting a new species!"

Dâgalûr had no time for more formalities.

"Laga, as your commander, I order you to go."

"But why, boss? You's the commander, you's the one they's gonna want to see."

"That's not a request. It's an **ORDER**." Dâgalûr commanded, his voice booming. He had no idea what came over him in that moment, but it felt _good_ to hold that power over someone else.

Laga reluctantly agreed out of fear, and was carried off to meet this "Council" of theirs.

Dâgalûrs handcuffs were removed, and he was left to his own devices in this strange new world.

* * *

Dâgalûr's first idea was to simply sit on the grond and study his new omni-tool intently, searching and learning about each race and their customs. After an hour or two of studying, he concluded that he would best fit among the race known as 'krogan', the froglike humpbacks. They were a savage, warmongering race, not unlike the Uruks. After learning all he could about the denizens of this place, Dâgalûr wandered the area until he found a small bar, with neon lights above that read "Chora's Den". He entered to a scene of asari in rather revealing latex outfits dancing on tables, something that greatly pleased his loins, but now was not the time. He walked up to the counter to be greeted by a bird-demon, known to most as 'turian', bartender. If he was to get by in this newfound world, he sure as hell wouldn't be doing it while sober.

"What'll it be?" the bartender asked.

"Got any grog?"

"Coming right up."

He grabbed a small bottle that read "Captain Morgan Original Spiced Rum", and on it was an image of a privateer dressed in red. The bartender poured a shot glass halfway to the top with its contents. He then pulled out a bottle of iced water, a novel idea to Dâgalûr, and poured it until roughly three quarters of the glass was full, then stirred it gently until it was mixed thoroughly.

It looked and smelled absolutely nothing similar to the dark, sticky concoction Dâgalûr knew as grog. Nevertheless, there was only one way to find out what it was, and that was to sample it.

It tasted of overwhelming sweetness and spice. This was not grog at all, but a favorite of those who sailed the high seas: Spicedrink. It brought fond memories of Dâgalûr's years as a Corsair of Umbar along the Gondorian coast, earning a living by pillaging trade vessels.

Despite this trip down memory lane, the drink dissatisfied Dâgalûr, so he just asked for some of the strongest stuff the house had. The bartender pulled out a large vial of bluish liquid in response.

"Got some uncut Batarian ale. Don't ask how I got it." he mentioned.

Dâgalûr downed the drink without thinking twice. It was quite strong, tasting tart and bitter simultaneously .

"Not strong enough. What else you got?"

"How bout this?"

He pulled out another vial, this one containing a green, viscous liquid.

"Called Ryncol. It's krogan liquor, volatile stuff really, only krogan can really handle this".

Dâgalûr knew he had to have it. "Hand it over."

"I've never seen a human stomach this. Your funeral, pal."

The bartender didn't know that Dâgalûr was no mere human, however. He was an _Uruk_ , through and through, despite his father's lineage.

"You don't know who you're talking to." he said, as he chugged what little was in his shot glass.

It burned just like grog did and he loved it, and smelled just as foul, although it tasted like stomach acid.

"That'll be 75 creds, bud." The bartender gestured his hand forward as to say "pay up".

Dâgalûr put a small cloth sack on the bar, untied the small rope holding it shut, and dumped its contents out onto the counter, which were several gold coins bearing an eye with a slit in it. He had credits to spare, but he figured physical currency was worth more.

"What's this supposed to be?" the bartender said, inspecting one of the coins. "I'm not accepting these. Seriously, gimme 75 credits now. Or else."

He didn't intimidate Dâgalûr. "Or else what?", he said, shoveling his coins into the bag.

The bartender gestured for two krogan bouncers from the far end of the bar to come to him. "Kick his ass."

On his command, krogans pounced Dâgalûr. He grabbed the one on the left and made a swift, powerful headbutt that staggered the bouncer. The thickness of the krogan's skull was unexpected, however, and left the half-Uruk reeling. The bouncer on the right grabbed Dâgalûr from behind, which wasn't as smart as the krogan thought it would be, as the grapple was broken with a swift elbow to the gut, which, with the bladed elbow tip of Dâgalûr's gauntlet, tore a hole in the krogan's clothing and skin, causing him to bleed an orange, viscous ichor.

Before the fight got any worse, two Turian officers from C-Sec barged in.

"What's going on in here?"

"This guy tried to get away without paying for his drinks!"

Dâgalûr was furious now." **I OFFERED TO PAY, BUT YOU WOULDN'T ACCEPT MY FARE!** " he insisted, his voice booming and as loud as a roaring fire.

"Look, until this is sorted out, you're ALL under arrest." The officers handcuffed Dâgalûr, the two bouncers and the bartender, and transported the four of them to the C-Sec Academy for questioning.

* * *

At the Academy, all involved parties were questioned about what had happened. Dâgalûr had told the officers his side of the story, while the bouncers and bartender told theirs. After a few hours had passed, Dâgalûr was forced to cough up the 75 credits he owed (plus an additional 100 for disturbing the peace), and the four were released, each being warned that one more offense would lead to jail time. Before being unhanded, Dâgalûr witnessed a krogan clad in scarlet armor, doing what he was so tempted to, to a human officer.  
"Witnesses saw you making threats in Fist's bar. Stay away from him."

"I don't take orders from you." the krogan retorted, his voice gruff and hoarse. Scars adorned his face, each telling a different story.

"This is your only warning, Wrex."

"You should be warning Fist. I _will_ kill him."

"You want me to arrest you?"  
"I want you to try!"

" _This 'Wrex' fella' could come in handy ta me later. Wonder if **he** accepts my money._" Dâgalûr thought to himself.

One of the human officers confronted the half-Uruk on his way out of C-Sec, "Listen, whoever you are, you're among a new species here, so this is your first and only warning. Next time, you're rotting in a cell. Understand?"

Dâgalûr only responded with a hearty laugh, baring his teeth, and considered spitting in the his face. He was back off to the Wards, ready to completely disregard what the officer said and hopefully spread a little mayhem.

* * *

 **A/N** : It's not been too long, but Chapter 1 is cleaned up and ready to be published. I'll see you all in the next update.


	3. Chapter 2: Recruitment

**Author's Note:** I know I've published three chapters in under a week, but do not expect this to keep up. By Chapter Six or so, I'll be done with revising chapters and will be forced to create new ones from the ground up. I'll try to give some level of communication on my profile about how each chapter is coming along as I make them.

 _ **Chapter** **Two: Recruitment**_

Commander Jane Shepard was racing against time. She needed proof that Saren Arterius, turian spectre, was working with the Geth, and she knew that Fist, the local agent for the Shadow Broker, had just the quarian to provide the evidence she needed. Fist knew she was coming, however, and prepared accordingly.

Shepard drew her _Lancer I_ assault rifle and began to tread carefully up to the door of Chora's Den, preparing for a firefight. Wrex was ready to just get on with it and kill Fist, and charged forward into the bar, blasting the turian bartender down in a cluster of shotgun pellets, blue blood splattering all across the bar and walls. Garrus took the opportunity to snipe two of Fist's hired thugs with well placed rounds, sending their personal shields into disarray, then turning their brains into red mist.

Now came the real challenge within the bar: taking out the Krogan bouncers. Fortunately, Wrex's distraction also provided the perfect window for Shepard to gun down one of the bouncers with her rifle, sending his body flying forward as he charged into a haze of bullets. The second bouncer, enraged by the deaths of his coworkers, flew into a frenzy, charging down Garrus and tackling him to the floor. Wrex, reveling in the slaughter of Fist's men, flared up his biotics, throwing his kinsman into the wall, and pinning him with boxes long enough for Shepard to take her pistol and gun down the krogan. The rest of Fist's guards were no match for the three specialists, all of them getting killed in one way or another.

With the bar cleared out, the squad proceeded into the corridor leading to Fist's office, opening the first door. Upon seeing the incoming squad members, two men working in the back drew their pistols.

"Stop right there, don't come any closer!"

"Warehouse workers? All the real guards must be dead." Garrus explained.

"Stay back, or we'll shoot!"

Shepard was having none of this. "I just killed fifty bodyguards to get in here. What do you think I'll do to you?"

"Uhh... Well,uh..." The first worker wiped the nervous sweat from his brow, ready to abandon his employer.

"Ah, screw Fist. He doesn't pay us enough for this." The second worker said, as the pair lowered their weapons and walked out of the bar.

"It would've been quicker to just kill them." Wrex interjected, disappointed with the lack of violence in the solution.

"Shooting people isn't always the answer." Garrus retorted.

With all of Fist's guards taken care of, there was only one thing left to do. The squad made their way into his office, taking cover behind the nearest wall.

"Why do I have to do everything myself? Time to die, little soldiers!" Fist exclaimed, calling for two turrets mounted to the floor to spring up and begin targeting the squad.

Wrex deployed a mass effect field to shield himself shortly from all the gunfire of the turrets, charging up to one and ripping it straight off the floor, throwing it at the other one, and destroying them both. Garrus focused his sniper fire on Fist's knees, taking care not to kill the agent of Saren, but also making sure he couldn't get a clean shot at the now vulnerable Wrex. Shepard provided a perfect distraction, firing round after round into Fist's armor, causing him to turn away from Wrex and face Shepard and Garrus, who landed the shot and sent Fist to the floor.

"Wait! Don't kill me! I surrender!" Fist said, crawling back to avoid the three squad members approaching him.

"Tell me where the quarian is and I won't have to shoot you in the kneecaps again." Shepard replied.

"She's not here, I don't know where she is. That's the truth!"

"He's no use to you now. Lemme kill him." Wrex said. He was paid to do his job, and he damn well was going to do it well.

"Wait! Wait! I don't know where the quarian is, but I know where you can find her. She's not here, said she'd only deal with the Shadow Broker himself."

"Face to face? Impossible. Even _I_ was hired through an agent."

Fist began to pick himself up, stumbling to his feet, making sure not to put pressure on the leg that was shot.

"Nobody meets the Shadow Broker. _Ever_. Even I don't know his true identity. But she didn't know that. I told her I'd set a meeting up, but when she shows up, it'll be Saren's men waiting for her."

Shepard was livid at this point, and pointed her pistol right underneath Fist's chin. "Tell me where that meeting is before I blow your lying head off!"

"Here on the wards, the back alley by the markets. She's supposed to meet them right now, and you can make it if you hurry."

Knowing that Fist would not yield more information, Wrex pulled out his shotgun and, as he begged for mercy, blasted Fist's face into an unrecognizable, bloody pulp strewn about the floor. His job was complete, and he expected his payment to be automatically credited to an account on his omni-tool soon enough.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" exclaimed Garrus.

"The Shadow Broker paid me to kill him. I don't leave jobs half-done."

"A lot of people died because of him. He had it coming. Now let's move, we still need to save that quarian." Shepard said, rushing for the alleyway.

* * *

Dâgalûr made his way to the elevator that led to the Presidium, trying to get away from all the newfound attention given to him from news reporters and xenobiologists. As he came across a door to his left, though, he came to a halt, overhearing a conversation. He took his helmet off and put his ear to the door, hoping it wouldn't open and blow his cover.

Dâgalûr distinctly heard a young woman's voice, but it was metallic, as if the user was more machine than flesh, but also with some form of Haradric-like, exotic accent. The other user he could make out to be a male turian, there was no mistaking it.

"Did you bring it?"

"Where's the Shadow Broker? Where's Fist?"

"They'll be here. Where's the evidence?"

"No way. The deal's off."

Dâgalûr couldn't resist anymore, and opened the door manually with his omni-tool. He saw the turian, a young quarian, and two salarians, all in the center of the alley, and at the other side of the alley stood the same scarlet-haired woman from earlier in the day, alongside another turian and a krogan watching undetected from the other entryway into the alley. The turian in the center quickly took notice of Dâgalûr .

"Get lost, bud, before I blow your brains out." He drew the attention of everyone in the alley to Dâgalûr.

Two simple words exited his mouth. "Make me."

The turian fired two rounds from a pistol, aimed straight for Dâgalûr's chest and head. Just before, the half-Uruk had lifted his Galvorn shield, protecting him from harm for the most part. His hand hurt like hell from the deflection, but he would live, unlike his assailant.

"Shouldn'ta' done that, fool." Dâgalûr said with a brutal, grizzled chuckle.

The turian didn't know it, but doing that was his death sentence. The quarian cartwheeled out of the way, and a small electric detonation went off near the salarians, staggering them. Dâgalûr charged straight at the turian, shield raised, his torn cape flowing freely, and tackled him to the ground. Throwing his shield to the side, he let a mighty orcish roar as he fell to the ground, and proceeded to beat the turian with across the floor, feeling his naturally-armored head resist less and less with every punch and slam into the ground. The woman and her companions, along with the quarian, began to open fire on the other two assassins, killing them in a shower of bullets.

They then watched in horror as the turian's mortal existence was cut short when Dâgalûr tore his jugular open with nothing but his teeth and feasted upon the bluish flesh within. With his belly filled, he got to his feet and used his cape to wipe the freely-flowing blood across his face, as the other four individuals backed up slightly and looked at him with a sense of horror, disgust, and confusion. Dâgalûr grinned let out a low chuckle as he inspected the four of them.

The quarian turned back to the three, trying to ignore the grizzled beast next to her. "Fist set me up! I knew I couldn't trust him!"

The woman leading the others asked, "Where you hurt in the fight?"

"I know how to look after myself, not that I don't appreciate the help. Who are you?"

"My name's Shepard. I'm looking for evidence to prove Saren is a traitor."

Dâgalûr had no idea of what these nutcases were talking about. He recognized the name Shepard from earlier, knowing that she could not be trusted.

"Then I have a chance to repay you for saving my life. But not here. We need to go somewhere safe."

The krogan pointed to Dâgalûr. "What about him?"

The four turned their attention back to Dâgalûr.

"You again?"

Dâgalûr planted a grimace on his face. Nobody really wanted to talk to him, let alone be within his line of sight, out of fear of enraging him again. On top of it all, he smelled foul, like a mixture of rotting flesh and body odor. Nobody had picked up the scent until just then, but the quarian quickly blocked the offending scent from entering her suit, and the krogan showed no visible reaction. Shepard gagged, however, and the turian backpeddled slightly to distance himself from the odor.

Shepard finally broke the silence. "What the hell is that stench?"

Dâgalûr gave no answer, but let out a low croak.

The turian nudged Shepard with his elbow. "Careful. He could be an escaped mental patient."

The krogan crossed his arms. "Last I checked, mental patients didn't wear suits of armor, or roar like animals."

"He killed that guy with nothing but his hands and teeth and _ate_ a part of him. Pretty sure that qualifies as 'deranged'."

"If anyone here's deranged, it's _this_ lot of freaks." Dâgalûr said, shooting a venemous glare at the turian.

"If he's on our side, I don't care what he is." Shepard retorted. "I remember you from earlier. You've made quite the news here on the Citadel. Who are you?"

Dâgalûr extended his hand. "Dâgalûr." Shepard reluctantly shook it.

"Shepard." She pointed back to the turian. "This is Garrus, And this is Wrex." Dâgalûr nodded at the two aliens behind her, and they gave him the same begrudging nod. "What's your business here?"

"I have no business here. I wandered over here from the 'Academy'. Damned bartender wouldn't take my coin, so he sent his goons after me."

"Told you he had a few screws loose, Commander."

Dâgalûr snorted at Garrus, attempting to intimidate him enough to get him to shut his gob for more than ten seconds.

"Garrus, we don't have time for you two to be at each other's throats."

"I suppose you're right. We could just take them both to the Human Embassy. Your ambassador will want to see this evidence anyway."

The five of them continued along their way, Shepard finally being relieved that the clock was no longer ticking for the time being. Along the way, the quarian nudged Dâgalûr to get his attention. "I also wanted to thank you for saving my life back there along with Shepard, Dâgalûr." She struggled to correctly pronounce his name. "Did I say that right? Anyway, I don't know how I can repay you. I doubt you'll find any use in what Shepard needs."

Dâgalûr didn't care about a reward. Nothing in this galaxy meant jackshit to him. Especially not some stranger's life. There was one way she could repay him, but Dâgalûr didn't want to rot in a cell if she said no, so he didn't even bother asking. "Yes, you said it right. Forget about the reward. I got to kill someone and got a free meal out of it. That's a reward in and of itself." He just wanted her to stop talking.

* * *

When they arrived, they were met with two humans, whom Dâgalûr believed to be politicians. The elder one turned to Shepard, obviously disgruntled with the situation.

"You're not making my life easy, Shepard. Firefights in the Wards, an all-out assault on Chora's Den, do you know many…" He had turned around and paused, surprised to see them all. "Who are these? A quarian and one of these new 'orcs' I've been hearing about? What are you up to, Shepard?"

"Making your day, ambassador. She has information linking Saren to the geth, and he... well, we can't figure out what to do with him."

"Well then, maybe you better start at the beginning, miss…"

"My name is Tali. Tali'Zorah nar Rayya."

"And mister…"

"Dâgalûr."

Ambassador Udina redirected his attention to Tali. "Anyway, we don't see many quarians around here. Why did you leave the flotilla?"

"I was on my pilgrimage, my rite of passage into adulthood."

"I've never heard of this before." Shepard replied.

"It is a tradition among my people. When we reach maturity, we leave the ships our parents and our people behind. Alone, we search the stars, only returning to the flotilla once we have discovered something of value. In this way, we prove ourselves worthy of adulthood."

"What kinds of things do you look for?"

"It could be resources, like food or fuel, or some type of useful technology, or even knowledge that will make life easier on the flotilla. Through our pilgrimage, we prove that we will contribute to the community, rather than be a burden on our limited resources."

"When will you globs just _fucking get on with it?_ " Dâgalûr thought to himself.

"Tell us what you found."

"During my travels I began hearing reports of geth. Since they drove my people into exile, the geth have never ventured beyond the Veil. I was curious. I tracked a patrol of geth to an uncharted world, I waited for one to become separated from its unit, then I disabled it and removed its memory core."

The younger of the two men, whom Dâgalûr didn't catch the name of, appeared to be decorated with medals. He finally spoke up. "I thought the geth fried their memory cores when they died. Some sort of defense mechanism."

"How did you manage to preserve the memory core?" Shepard asked.

"My people created the geth. If you're quick, careful, and lucky, small caches of data can sometimes be saved. Most of the core was wiped clean, but I salvaged something from its audio banks."As she said this, she fiddled with her omni-tool, which emitted the voice of a turian. "Eden Prime was a major victory. The beacon has brought us one step closer to finding the Conduit."

"That's Saren's voice! This proves he was involved in the attack!" The younger man exclaimed.

Shepard spoke up. "He said Eden Prime brought him one step closer to finding 'The Conduit'. Any idea what that means?"

"The Conduit must have something to do with the beacon. Maybe it's some kind of Prothean technology; like a weapon."

Tali continued. "Wait, there's more. Saren wasn't working alone." She played the recording over again, but after Saren's voice, another, more feminine voice said, "... And one step closer to the return of the Reapers."

"I don't recognise that other voice, the one talking about 'Reapers'." The ambassador said.

Shepard was confused. "Are they some kind of new alien species?"

"According to the memory core, the Reapers were a hyper-advanced machine race that existed 50,000 years ago. The Reapers hunted the Protheans to total extinction, and then they vanished! At least, that's what the geth believe."

The ambassador had to put his two cents in once more. "Sounds a little farfetched."

Shepard had a look of pure shock on her face. "The vision on Eden Prime. I understand it now. I saw the protheans being wiped out by the Reapers."

"The geth revere the Reapers as gods, the pinnacle of non-organic life, and they believe Saren knows how to bring the Reapers back."

The ambassador rolled his eyes. "The Council is just going to _love_ this..."

Dâgalûr was growing impatient. He was _through_ with being nice. He would show them what a true Uruk warrior could do if they didn't hurry this along. He still had to go get Laga and get home. He was already fed up with this universe.

Shepard showed genuine concern. "The Reapers are a threat to every species in Citadel Space. We have to tell-"

"No matter what they think about the rest of this, those audio files prove Saren's a traitor!"

"The captain's right, we need to present this to the council right away."

Wrex finally opened his mouth. "What about her? The quarian? And the... Whatever-he-is?"

"My name is Tali!"

"You're itchin' for a good shanking, aren't ya?"

"You saw me in the alley, Commander, you know what I can do, let me come with you!"

"I thought you were on your pilgrimage."

"The pilgrimage proves we are willing to give of ourselves for the greater good. What does it say about me if I turn my back on this? Saren is a danger to the entire galaxy. My pilgrimage can wait."

Attention then shifted to Dâgalûr, with a silence only broken by Shepard. "What about you, Dâgalûr? Do you have somewhere you've got to get going?"

"No, I've got nowhere in this hellhole to go. Sure as hell ain't getting home anytime soon. Since you've finally shut your gobs, I can say it sounds like you need every blade you can get, though. You've seen what I can do to my enemies, Commander. The choice is yours."

"I'll take all the help I can get. You're both in."

The two moved behind Shepard. "Wise decision."

"Thanks. You won't regret this."

The ambassador interrupted again. "Anderson and I will go ahead to get things ready with the Council. Take a few minutes to collect yourself, then meet us in the Tower." The two men were off.

"If you see my boy Laga there, tell him to report back to me." Dâgalûr halfheartedly stated

"Dâgalûr, Wrex, I think it'd be best if you two headed back to the Normandy."

"The what?"

"It's our ship."

"You travel by boat in this universe?"

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. Sure, Dâgalûr and his lot were new to the Galaxy, but were they _really_ so primitive as to not know what spacecraft are? "Anyways, when you get there, inform Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams that she's to report to me immediately. She'll be downstairs in Storage."

* * *

As the two made their way back to the ship, Dâgalûr began questioning the krogan next to him. "So, what's your story, Wrex?"

"There is no story. It's the same as all krogan."

"Listen, you overgrown lizard, all I learned from that damned 'codex', is that the turians and salarians sterilized your people."

"That's all there is. Nearly all krogan newborn are stillborn, and most never even make it that far. Would you want to talk about it if it were your species?" He pointed a finger at Dâgalûr. "And, by the way, if you ever call me 'overgrown lizard' again, you'll be coughing up your own testicles."

"I've eaten bigger rats than you." Dâgalûr let out another low-pitched growl to the krogan next to him.

"Hmm… the fact that you had the guts to keep running your mouth after my threat makes me respect you a little more, you fat little greaseball."

"You're on thin ice, krogan. You saw me stop two of those death-pellets and what a mess I made out of the turian. I'd choose your next few words carefully."

Wrex merely responded with a chuckle. He could _easily_ break this... orc, whatever it was, in half if he wanted to. He simply dropped the conversation.

After a few minutes of walking, the two got in C-Sec Academy's elevator and went up, which slightly unhinged Dâgalûr. He had never been in such a device before, but he kept his composure where any lesser orc would have lost their mind. The two then found their way to the ship (which, as Dâgalûr found out, was definitely _not_ a boat), and boarded it. As they entered the first room, an overhead voice began to say, "Decontamination in progress", as the small room filled with mist and a screen passed over them. Both of them felt greatly uncomfortable during the process, but it was a necessary step to avoid offworld germs.

After that, they walked onto the ship's bridge, passing the Command Deck. They descended a flight of stairs and went for another elevator ride, which Dâgalûr was mentally prepared for this time, before coming to a large room with a six-wheeled vehicle in it, which read 'Mako' along its side, and boxes stacked everywhere. They were the Engineering and Storage sections of the Normandy, and the two of them made themselves at home, with Wrex leaning against the wall to the right, and Dâgalûr leaning against one of the beams supporting the track that the Mako travelled on. In the far back of the room, a woman was standing over some sort of counter, cleaning advanced weapons Dâgalûr could not comprehend.

Dâgalûr went over to her and asked, "Are you Ashley Williams?"

"Yeah, what's it to you?"

It took all of Dâgalûr's strength not to sock her right in the jaw. "Shepard wants to see you immediately."

"Alright, I'm on it."

The Gunnery Chief went off to join the current squad, taking the elevator up. Dâgalûr then proceeded to decorate the beam with Mordor's flag, one of his only keepsakes from home. After an hour of nothing but silence, the only sound being the breathing of the two warriors, Tali, Ashley, and Garrus made their way down, with Laga not far behind.

"So, what happened?"

"They were a wee bit shocked. Couldn't handle a bit o' Uruk, it seems."

This made the two orcish companions laugh, fairly hard at that.

"But that Asari, though, Sulelsha..."

Dâgalûr was almost in tears laughing, much to Laga's chagrin. Had one of his highest ranking soldiers, an ancient librarian and sorcerer, _really fallen for a blue-pinkskin_?

Tali made herself comfortable in Engineering, Ashley returned to her original position, Garrus decided to look over the Mako, close to Dâgalûr, and Laga took a seat on a stack of boxes. Shortly thereafter, a voice spoke over the intercom.

"This is Commander Shepard speaking. We have our orders: find Saren before he finds the Conduit. I won't lie to you, crew. This mission isn't going to be easy. For too long our species has stood apart from the others. Now it's time for us to step up and do our part for the rest of the galaxy. Time to show them what humans are made of!"

It took all of Laga's and Dâgalûr's willpowers combined not to laugh at that statement. A pinkskin's a pinkskin, no matter what dimension.

"Wherever Saren goes, we'll follow. Wherever he searches for the Conduit, we'll be there. We will hunt him to the very ends of the galaxy and bring him down!" Every crew member in Storage stood around each other and listened as Shepard continued, "Humanity needs to do this. Not just for our own sake, but for the sake of every other species in Citadel Space. Saren must be stopped, and I promise you all… we will stop him!" As Shepard's inspirational speech had concluded, the crew went back to what they were doing, with Dâgalûr deciding to catch up on some much needed sleep.


	4. Chapter 3: Getting Accustomed

_**Chapter Three: Getting Accustomed**_

Following the speech, Shepard knew she'd have to get acquainted with her new squadmates. She made her way down to the Normandy's lower levels to chat with the crew, namely Garrus, Wrex, Tali, and Dâgalûr. The conversation with Garrus seemed to endure for quite some time, as if the two had no cares in the world.

Dâgalûr, awakening sluggishly, managed to overhear most of it, as Garrus spoke of his carrer at C-Sec and sense of justice. To the half-uruk, this was laughable. Morality was a foreign concept in Uruk society, moreso since Sauron had ascended to power once more. Shepard managed to calm Wrex after provoking him with memories about the Genophage, and her chat with Tali was short lived.

Upon reaching Dâgalûr, who was sharpening his sword, Pauzûlshapât, she sparked a discussion with the overlord.

"Hey, Dâgalûr, just trying to get an idea of who I picked up. Got some time to answer a couple questions?"

"Feel free to ask, but know that I have the right not to answer any of them."

"Of course. My first question is where exactly did you come from? I've read the Extranet reports about you and your buddy," she stated, pointing towards Laga, "but I'd like to know more."

"I hail from the land of Mordor, dominion of the shadows."

"What system is that planet in, though?"

"What?"

"Your planet, Mordor, what star system is it in?"

"The name of my planet isn't Mordor, that's the name of the region. The name of the world is.." Dâgalûr paused for a moment. He had heard the name before, but it eluded his grasp now.

"Arda."

Shepard began typing on a small projected datapad on her omni-tool. "Arda? Interesting name."

"As for what "system" it's in, I couldn't tell you. We know little the stars."

"Well, what's your planet like?"

Laga, being much more knowledgeable than his superior, interrupted, "There are three continents: Middle-Earth, which is where we come from, the Lands of the Sun to the west of us, and the Dark Lands to the south of us. The Lands of the Sun are too hot to be habitable and the Dark Lands were inhabited by Ungoliant, the spider-demon."

"What's your continent like?"

"Middle-Earth? Got a wide range of climates, from the ice bays in the north, to the deserts and jungles of Harad in the south."

"How did humans get there, though? We never colonized this world."

"They are one of the children of the 'Father'," said Laga disgustedly, "and have thus been in Middle Earth since the beginning."

This hokey religious preaching didn't sit well with Shepard. "Anyways, continue. What's it like where you lived?"

"Mordor itself is a climate divided. The north is freezing from all the ash on the ground and dust polluting the air, and the only heat is from Mount Doom, which sends massive clouds of black smoke to blot out the sun. The only fertile area in the region is a large plain to the east in which most of the wildlife in Mordor survives. The south was lush and green because of the inland Sea of Nurnen, but now Orcs have been settling in and using slaves to strip the land and gather food for the growing armies. Now just about all that remains are the slaves and the beasts in the depths of the sea."

"Life sounds harsh."

"It is. Only the strongest survive day to day life outside the army." replied Dâgalûr.

"Who is this army led by?"

Dâgalûr once more intervened, "Sauron the Great. I myself am his 'left-hand-Uruk', if you will. He's been breeding us Uruks, Wargs, and the mighty Olog-Hai in masses for the coming war. He's also managed to sway the Southrons and the Easterlings into his ranks. When he regains his ring of power from the clutches of the enemy so that he may once again take physical form, the hordes will be unleashed upon the rest of Middle Earth, and none shall be left standing."

"The more you explain your world, the more it sounds like a fantasy vid."

"A 'vid'? What's that supposed to mean?" Dâgalûr retorted, a perplexed yet irate grimace on his face.

"It's just a form of entertainment people watch. Most of em' nowadays are trash, but there are quite a few gems under all the garbage."

Shepard, still typing, looked up and stared at the torn banner hanging overhead from the support beam.

"Is that your people's flag?" she said, pointed to the ragged black cloth, which bore a crimson circle with a slit dividing it at the center.

"It is. It bears the Eye of Sauron."

"My next question, if you'll allow me to intrude a bit, is what exactly are you? I know the report said you were a new species of some sort, but I'd like you to elaborate."

Dâgalûr paused for a moment, processing what Shepard just said.

"So, you want to know my story, eh?"

"If that answers my question."

Laga gulped. He knew this story, and he understood that it killed Dâgalûr inside to tell it.

"It started thousands of years ago. The year was 1451 of the Third Age, more than one and a half thousand years ago. My mother, Tormatum, was an Uruk, and a lieutenant at the time. She left home to hunt for the most dangerous weapons she could discover. My father, Sufyan, was a Haradrim blacksmith, but he was never respected. It was his damned Gondorian ancestry. He had pale, ghostly skin, and passed it down to me."

Dâgalûr paused to swallow. "He's the reason I look more human than Uruk. I don't know whether to bless him or damn him. This skin's made it so hard to earn respect from the Orc mobs. I sometimes gotta just open my mouth," He used his finger to pull down his lower lip, exposing his grey gums and sharpened, yellowed teeth. "to remind them who I really am."

Shepard was disgusted by Dâgalûr's mouth, but it did jumpstart her memory. "That reminds me, you need to see Dr. Chakwas as soon as you can. I need an up to date physical on you if you're gonna be seeing active combat soon. Sorry to interrupt. Go on."

"Anyhow, On the other hand, this skin's made it easy to spy on Gondor unnoticed, so long as I don't bleed an' just put on a lil' makeup. He did give me this." He stroked his blood-matted, entangled beard as he spoke of this. "so there's another plus. I didn't get much from my mum's side, but if one thing I got from her sticks out, it's my mindset. I've been raised around humans enough to control my bloodthirsty impulses while still holding onto my Orcish nature, and that's the only reason I haven't tried acted on impulses and done to you what I did to that turian."

"OK….." Shepard backed up slightly, unsettled by the notion that Dâgalûr's race was made up of raging, uncontrolled beasts. "It's almost like his race is a combination of humans and krogan, with a little vorcha mixed in..." she thought to herself.

"But hold on, you need to fill me in a bit. Who's Gondor?"

"Gondor, _feh_ , they're the enemy, the lot of them, they think it's okay to mercilessly slaughter us Orcs because they're more civilized."

"I think I've heard all I need to know about your backstory, but what are you wearing on your face?" She was referring to the dwarvish-made eyeglasses that Dâgalûr was wearing.  
"What, these old things? I need them to see because I was nearly blinded by my old drinking habits. Without them, everything is blurry. I stole them off of a dwarven merchant's corpse on the side of a road years ago."

"We can fix that up with a bit of laser surgery. Do you have any comments or remarks before I leave?"

"I do have a few. I'm telling you now, the struggles of my home mean more to me than any of the shrakh that goes down here. In return for helpin' you, I expect you to answer my call for help whenever it may be. I'll leave in a heartbeat if you don't agree to that."

"Dâgalûr, the mission comes first, but I'll give you my word that I'll help you with something in return for your work in the field. Anyway, I'll leave you to what you were doing."

"So be it."

Shepard began briskly walking up the stairs towards the uppermost levels of the ship. Garrus, who had been listening to the entire conversation, questioned Dâgalûr's validity. "Was what you said about 'Middle-Earth' really true, or are you just weaving a tale as you go along?"

"It was, and after seeing the reports and news back on the 'Citadel', do you really doubt me?"

"I guess you do have a point. And chill, I'm not trying to instigate anything, just joking around a bit. You take things a bit too seriously it seems."

"Sod off."

Dâgalûr went back to sharpening the blade of his sword, and shortly afterwards headed up the cargo hold's elevator, in order to pay a visit to this 'Dr. Chakwas'.

* * *

Dâgalûr's boots clanked against the steel of the floor, his presence commanding the room. He trudged his way over to the med bay, not too keen on what butchery may happen to him in there. He pushed up his clunky glasses and entered the med bay of the ship to the sight of various electrical devices and metal tables. Sitting at a desk was an older human woman with short, platinum blonde hair, typing away on a datapad. Next to her was a younger lass, ebony hair draping over her shoulders, most likely the assistant to the first.

"You must be the Doctor, I take it?" Dâgalûr said.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Dâgalûr. Shepard filled me in to let me know to prepare the physical. Have a seat on one of the beds and we'll begin."

Dâgalûr went for the closest of the operating tables and took a seat upon it, lying flat on his back while Doctor Chakwas prepared the questions she was required to ask.

"First, do you know your weight and height?"

"I couldn't tell you height, but me weight's about 21 and a half stones."

Doctor Chakwas was somewhat shocked how someone at that weight could expect to be ready for combat, unless of course it was pure muscle.

"Alright, I'll need to make a few measurements, then."

After measuring Dâgalûr's height, it came out to be 6 foot 5 inches. He towered over Doctor Chakwas and her assistant, but was still dwarfed by most elcor and hanar. The doctor was unsure of the average weight of an Orc, as there were only two known specimens in the whole of the galaxy, but going by human standards, Dâgalûr was fairly heavy at a whopping 300 pounds.

"Alright, you'll need to go on a strict exercise regimen beginning today, and following that we'll need to have you sit out one or two missions before we can determine if you're healthy enough to see combat. A few simulations and we'll see."

Dâgalûr tried his hardest to not respond with _'Feh, what would you know about Orc physique?'_ and replied with a simple "Understood."

"Second, what's your age?"

"1,600."

Chakwas was both skeptical and astounded by this answer. Nevertheless, she had no idea what the average lifespan of Dâgalûr's race was, and typed it into the datapad.

"Do you have any physical handicaps we should know about?"

"Aye. these here," Dâgalûr pointed to his glasses, "Help me see. I'm blind as a bat without 'em."

"Well, we can fix that up with a bit of laser surgery. We can replicate it here on the Normandy, and can get it done before you're out of here today."

"Good. One less problem with this beat up body."

"Any alcohol or drug use?"

"I drink more than I eat most days."

"Noted. Any hereditary issues, serious injuries or illnesses?"

"I've been beat up on a daily basis, if that counts as a serious injury. My legs and arms have been broken more times than I can count in this tongue. I have more scars than years to my life. Nothing on illnesses, though. I don't think I've been sick a day in my life. Not that I can remember, at least." Dâgalûr explained in a more hardened tone.

He felt his cheek, his gloved hand running down it, feeling every minute graze of a blade and slash of an axe. It gave his face a bumpy texture as he ran his hand on it, and he felt around the inside of his mouth with his tongue. Although his teeth grew back endlessly, there were still plenty of scars from where war hammers and maces slammed against his jaw.

Chakwas typed ceaselessly on her datapad, noting down every detail of the info Dâgalûr was giving her.

"That's a good sign. It indicates your immune system is strong. And you must have one hell of one if your body healed all those scars you say you have. Now, if you could, I'll need to see what's under that armor of yours."

Reluctant to part with his armor in an unfamiliar world, the half-uruk eventually complied after some coercing from the Doctor, stripping down until only a loincloth remained.

Chakwas was completely unprepared for what ungodly sight that lied beneath that armor. Not only was the scent of carrion and death itself much more prevalent, but Dâgalûr's entire body was covered from head to toe with scars of all kinds, and his sickly pale skin was riddled with infection, caked on dirt, and shit. This was proving to be a hefty order for Chakwas and her assistant, and one that would be time-consuming. Nonetheless, if Dâgalûr was to be in prime fighting condition within a handful of missions, he needed far more than standard exercise and dieting.

They would be forced to start with patching up any open wounds and infections. With some stitching, antiseptic wipes, and disinfectant creams, his wounds were largely covered up in just an hour and a half, and he was permitted to re-arm himself. Afterwards, the smell had mostly cleared up, but his mouth was laden with tartar buildup and his gums bled profusely when provoked. Although Chakwas was no dentist, she used her scalpels to carefully scrape against Dâgalûr's teeth, eliminating most of the accumulation of tartar and plaque. Next would be the part Dâgalûr dreaded most of all, but knew was absolutely necessary for his continued survival: correctional vision surgery.

The half-uruk was restrained to one of the examination tables as the correctional surgery began. His eyeglasses were removed, and his eyeball was pried open with metal clamps to ensure he did not blink. His cornea was flattened as the laser did its work, but not without Dâgalûr screeching and screaming, trying to escape. The majority of the ship was riddled with his cries, everyone wondering what unholy force was causing such a noise in the med bay.

After 15 minutes passed, both eyes were corrected, his visual translator chip from Sulelsha had been implanted, and special goggles were placed over the half-uruk's field of vision to prevent damage over the next day.

"Despite all the screaming, you preformed rather well Mr. Dâgalûr. I've forwarded your exercise regiment to Shepard, and your physical is now on record. You're free to go."

As Dâgalûr left the med bay, Shepard spoke over the intercom: "Garrus and Wrex, please report to the Command Deck." Almost immediately, the turian-krogan duo exited the elevator and passed the half-uruk as he made his way down to Storage.

* * *

After about an hour had passed, with nobody in the storage area save Ashley. the Requisitions Officer, Dâgalûr, and Laga, an unbroken, awkward silence filled the air. Dâgalûr decided to muster up the courage to descend into the engineering section and have a conversation with Tali, the two not having said a word to each other since the rescue. He was extremely nervous, as he felt some form of tingle within him he had not felt in more than a hundred years. He could not pinpoint it, but he just tried to ignore it to the best of his abilities. His voice almost completely trembled with nerves, but he assured himself in his head that he was as powerful as Sauron, even though he could feel very human emotions.

"Uh, Tali? Do you think we might be able to talk for a second?"

She turned around to face him, her bright, white eyes being the only thing Dâgalûr could see beyond her mask. They seemed to have an almost surprised, yet nervous, look to them as they darted around.

"Oh, uh, hey Dâgalûr." Her voice almost sounded as shy and withdrawn as his, "Of course. What did you have in mind?"

"...Truth be told, I didn't think I could get this far in this conversation without my nerves getting to me. I'm really not great at small talk. Anything you want to talk about?"

As nerves boiled away and tension died down, the two decided to truly spark an exchange.

"Nothing comes to mind, really, but if I may ask, what language are you speaking? I heard you speaking it when I watched the Citadel newscasts. There's no recorded language I could find in any database that matches it, pre-spaceflight or not."

"It is the tongue of my people, the Black Speech of Mordor. My people can speak Westron as well, which I believe the dialect of it that everyone here is speaking is called "English", but we prefer Black Speech when we're with each other."

"And where is this 'Mordor'? what system is it in?"

" _Here we go again..._ " thought Dâgalûr, the persistence of this question infuriating him slowly but surely.  
"I know not how I came here, nor what a 'system' is."

"Well, what of your people? You mentioned 'Uruk' back on the Citadel. That's a another term I'm unfamiliar with."

"Ah, yes, the Uruks are the elite breed of Orc, perfected to resist daylight and be larger than the common rabble and _Snaga_. My mother was one of the few known female Uruks, and from what I can remember, she was stunning compared to the rest of our race. She's long gone, however, and may whatever awaited her have been better than what she got in her life."

"I know what it's like to lose your mother; mine passed about five years ago. Know that I share your pain."

"No, you truly don't, but your attempt at empathizing with me was greatly appreciated."

Tali did not know to be offended or flattered by Dâgalûr's remark, so she ultimately chose to change the subject. "What exactly are Orcs? Were they just introduced into the galactic community?"

"They were Elves in the First Age of our world, but our eldest lords took them, and bound them to darkness. They mutilated, tortured, and selectively bred them over generations until they created the Orcs, made to be the back,bone of their armies."

"Keelah, that sounds horrifying."

"It truly is. We've talked too much of me, though. What about your people?"

"Life isn't easy. My people were driven into exile from our homeworld by the geth. Now we live aboard the Migrant Fleet, in cramped living quarters. We put a large value in trust and loyalty, so there is rarely disagreement over our limited resources. Food's not too abundant, and it doesn't help that our DNA is based around dextro amino-acids, so we can't eat the foods of levo amino-acid based organisms, like humans, and orcs, I assume. We place no value on personal possessions, and take only what we need. Tight-knit families are common, and it's illegal to have more than one child unless there's a population crisis. Our laws reflect on our migrant nature, and young adults are required to go on a pilgrimage, like I mentioned before. Also, due to our weak immune systems, we have to wear these enviro-suits. That's about as much as I could really tell you, though."

"I have one final question for you, then I will leave you to what you were doing."

"Hm?"

"Will you help me figure out how this blasted 'omni-tool' works? The tutorials taught me the basics, but I'm still clueless on what to do."

"Sure. Engineer Adams, do you think you'll be alright without me for a while?"

The man to her right wordlessly nodded, being quite engrossed in his current tasks. With the approval of the Engineer, Tali and Dâgalûr made their way back to Dâgalûr's lounging place, with him plopping down on a nearby box while the quarian got on her knees. The orange glow of the tool illuminated the his goggles and her visor as it brought up a holographic screen requesting a passcode, which the Servant of Sauron input while facing away from his counterpart.

As the hub menu was pulled up, it made much more sense to Dâgalûr, having had his translator implanted.

It took Tali mere minutes to explain the ins and outs of the tool to the half-born, and he was downloading games and surfing the Extranet in no time. She returned back to Engineering, content with listening to Dâgalûr's over the top reactions to the wonders of the Galaxy, reminding her of herself at a young age.

Among the games that caught Dâgalûr's eye was one titled 'God of War", an old human video game having been released on Earth about 183 years ago.

Its summary on the Extranet read:  
 _"God of War is a third person hack-and-slash video game developed by Santa Monica Studios and published by Sony Computer Entertainment (SCE). First released on Earth on March 22, 2005, for the PlayStation 2(PS2) console, it is the first installment in the series of the same name_ _and the third chronologically. Loosely based on Greek Mythology, it is set in ancient Greece with vengeance as its central motif. The player controls the protagonist Kratos, a Spartan warrior who serves the Olympian Gods. The goddess Athena tasks Kratos with killing Ares, the God of War and Kratos' former mentor who tricked Kratos into killing his wife and daughter. As Ares besieges the city of Athens out of hatred for Athena, Kratos embarks on a quest to find the one object capable of stopping the god once and for all: Pandora's Box."_

With a summary like that, Dâgalûr could _not_ pass it up. He himself pined for vengeance, so he thought that it may teach him how to achieve his dreams.

As he loaded up the adventure and began to take control of this 'Kratos', he found himself engulfed in his struggles, his plight, his hatred towards the god who had wronged him. He empathized with someone who most saw as a cold-blooded killer. If there ever was a chance to meet this warrior, he knew he had to buy him a round of drinks to dull his pain.

* * *

Garrus, returning from the mission, prodded Dâgalûr gently, hoping not to anger him.

"Huh? What time is it?" Dâgalûr was oblivious to his surroundings, having been so engrossed in the game.

"Shepard's requested everybody meets her up top in the comm room."

"Alright, I'm coming."

The two made their way up to the Command Deck and entered the comm room, taking the two seats between Tali and the empty seat next to Wrex. Garrus, who had been on the mission, seemed worried about Shepard, who looked as if she were troubled by something.

Kaidan, however, was the first to speak. "Are you okay, Commander? You look a little pale."

Ashley had to pipe up with her cynical nature that Dâgalûr couldn't stand. "It's that damn Cipher! That asari messed you up good! And for what? We still don't know where to find that stupid Conduit! What a waste!"

Shepard, who had some kind of traumatic experience, as Dâgalûr pieced together, finally spoke up. "She said it could take a while. I needed the Cipher. It's going to lead us to the Conduit. I'm just not sure how yet."

Kaidan remembered, however, that they had another option, "We still have another lead, Commander. That asari scientist in the Artemis Tau Cluster. The Matriarch's daughter. She's an expert on the Protheans. Maybe she knows something."

"Don't worry, we'll deal with her soon enough. Crew dismissed."

Dâgalûr, taking that as his cue to get the hell out, did so, as the rest of the crew left to return to their duties. They could still hear the pilot of the ship, whom Dâgalûr knew as "Joker", as he spoke to Shepard over the intercom.

"I've sent off the Feros report, Commander. You want me to patch you through to the Council?"

That was the last thing Dâgalûr heard as he went back to his usual dwelling, returning to his following of the story of this 'Kratos'.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : OK, so I _still_ can't figure out what I wanted to do with this chapter. It was most likely going to be a slice of life, but it kinda fell short of that. Nevertheless, here it is, and it technically will advance the plot.


	5. Chapter 4: Therum

_**Chapter Four: Therum**_

Dâgalûr had made quite a usage out of the long hours given to him between missions. In addition to completing most of the _God of War_ games from the sprawling deserts of _God of War: Ra's Fury_ to the Norse forests of _God of War 2018_ , his surgery had healed quite nicely, and he spent the remainder of his time in the Normandy's private gym, exercising more often than not. The half-uruk had also taken quite the liking toward's the musical samplings of human metal and krogan deathbeat, with some of his favorites being Gavin Dunne's _Hell to Pay_ , _Rachni Blood_ by Urdnot Cogar, and Sabaton's _To Hell and Back_ , often listening to each while working out in a rather large playlist he had set up on his omni-tool.

Laga, on the other hand, had been enthralled by the study of biotics and xenobiology, taking a great fascination with the cultures of each race and how they played their part in the greater galactic society. Biotics were very complex to understand for his orcish mind of metal, but he eventually deciphered that they were quite similar to Middle-Earth's magic, albeit on a much larger scale. Magic was Laga's specialty, and seeing as he knew more about history and the arcane arts than he did warfare, he took quite the liking towards Asari, the "Elves of this Universe", as he called them.

* * *

After burning a good portion of his fat off with his exercise regimen in place, Dâgalûr thought he'd be ready to see active combat. Regardless of his health, however, he needed to go through at least one combat simulation, and Shepard and Tali knew just what to do.

While distracted by his video games, the crew in Storage were ordered by the Commander through text to rearrange the boxes strewn about, as they were to be used as cover in the simulation. Dâgalûr's visual translator also doubled as a heads-up display, and was remotely accessed by Tali, allowing her to install the virtual reality training application they needed.

Just as the overlord closed his game, a visor detailing his vital signs, targeting systems, and user interface appeared, seemingly out of thin air. Upon trying to interact with it, it pulled up the combat training application, plunging him into a world of darkness. As he traversed this newfound place, he began to wonder just what the hell had happened. " _Wha' th' fuck is all this? I was never warned 'bout combat being so sudden here..._ " He asserted, drawing his sword, only for it to register as a very different type of sword in the program. His weapon, an average longsword, was now much less menacing, its ebony aura of hateful, cursed magic gone and replaced with a faint glimmer upon moving under lights.

In an instant, the world around him was brought forth before his eyes, an extensive canyon riverbed with many large rocks strewn about. In its center was a massive boulder blocking off view for most of the way forward, but Dâgalûr simply walked around it, only to be fired upon by robotic adversaries, a single, bright optical receptor on each of their polymer 'faces'. These were the geth that had galactic news in a frenzy, and he was ready to smite them. He ran back behind the boulder, drawing one of many virtual throwing knives on the sash hung around his chest. As one of the geth approached, he slung a knife at its head, severing the cables on its optical sensor and giving the half-uruk time to stab the synthetic to 'death' with his sword.

Using its body as cover, Dâgalûr made a break for the rock formation by the bank of the river, taking cover and using his throwing knives sparingly to distract the geth soldiers moving in on his position. Once the first of two made it to his cover, it leaped overtop of it and began to open fire on Dâgalûr, whose armor absorbed most of the bullets. With a window of opportunity as the geth went in for a melee attack with his pulse rifle, the half uruk began to let his fists fly into the bolymer exterior shell of the geth's chest, shattering it after enough blows and ripping out every wire and cable he could reach, the geth powering down and falling to the ground with a loud clank.

As the Servant of Sauron peered out from his cover, he spotted the second geth trooper closing in on him. Knowing time was of the essence, he chucked his second-to-last knife at the geth, piercing its 'eye', and moved in for the kill, using it as a dagger and stabbing it repeatedly in as many areas as he could until the brittle metal of the knife gave way and shattered and he was coated in white coolant fluids. The geth did not die without a fight, however, and brutally struck back with the butt of its rifle, sending Dâgalûr reeling back. Although it couldn't detect his movement by vision, it could still use audio receptors well enough to track his movement, firing a haze of pistol rounds at him until he was no longer moving.

What the geth did not know, however, was that Dâgalûr wasn't moving not because he was dead, but because he had found cover. He drew his sword once more, and began sneaking towards the geth, ensuring he made as little noise as possible. However, he crunched quite a few pebbles, causing the geth to open fire in what it thought was the half-uruk's chest, but as he was crouching, it fired straight into the canyon wall. the overlord used his sword to slice the geth's head region clean off the rest of its body, causing it to fall into the river and float away, its white 'blood' spilling into the water and tainting it.

* * *

The final geth trooper's demise signaled the end of the simulation, and Dâgalûr was returned to the Normandy once more. He sheathed his sword, and the crew of Storage was ordered to put the crates and boxes back where they found them.

"Congratulations, Dâgalûr. You've passed training, and now it looks like you're ready to see combat with Tali and I."

Dâgalûr merely responded with a nod, following the Commander and the quarian to the command deck.

"So, what exactly did you have planned? And how much killin' do I get to do?"

"We're off to find Matriarch Benezia's daughter."

The task didn't sound as exciting as he would've hoped, but he remained hopeful that it would involve something for him to slaughter brutally. Navigator Pressley awaited them on the ship's bridge, near the doors to the ship.

"Alright, this mission is fairly straightforward, but I assume you'll have an army of geth waiting for you between now and the Matriarch's daughter, Liara. Any questions?" The human said, typing something onto a datapad as he spoke.

The two remained silent, as Tali knew what to expect from the geth and Dâgalûr was coming off his adrenaline rush from the simulation's combat.

"Alright then, follow Shepard." Pressley directed, giving a salute to the Commander as she and her squadmates returned to Storage.

* * *

The crew boarded the Mako, Tali and Dâgalûr taking seats next to one another as Shepard took the driver's seat. Shortly after, the massive vehicle headed down the set path in Storage, and was dropped down to the surface of Therum with a powerful thud that sent it bouncing slightly.

The pilot, Joker, spoke to Shepard over the comms inside the Mako she was now in full control of. "Commander, I'm picking up some strange readings. Really strange. Like, off the damn charts. It looks like it's coming from an underground complex a few klicks away from the drop zone."

Shepard acknowledged Joker's information with a nod, and continued forward on the ground that lava had not yet consumed.

"It seems a bit too peaceful. Anticipate an ambush." Dâgalûr's years on the fields of battle gave him an idea of what to expect, even if the opponents were machine as opposed to man. He instinctively drew his sword, its dark and cursed energy radiating from the blade of the weapon, and turned on his playlist of metal and deathbeat from his omni-tool. His instincts were right, as a large dropship appeared a short distance up the craggy path, dropping down down two Geth Armatures and leaving, off to who knows where.

" _Sulmog!_ Attack!" Dâgalûr yelled, his music blaring in his ears, compelling him to enter a frenzy.

Shepard began to fire the Mako's weapon at the armatures, managing to destroy one, but the Mako took too much damage to risk staying in it any longer. Shepard, Tali, and Dâgalûr climbed out of the vehicle and began an all-out assault on the remaining overloaded its shields as Shepard fired round after round at the armature with her assault rifle.

Dâgalûr sliced away at its carapace, aiming for the cables and wires within. " _Zaduk!_ Destroy it!" He yelled as he went as he went in for the finishing blow with Pauzûlshapât.

He let out his orcish roar as he struck the automaton down with a firm overhead slash to the 'head'. The three sheathed their weaponry and made their way back to the Mako, continuing onward to find Liara. Shepard proved herself to be a rather reckless driver, as Dâgalûr was nearly made sick, but she halted as they drove up to a heavily fortified base, nestled within a pass between two small mountains. Cannons from the geth turrets began to open fire on them the instant they were in sight.

Tali gave a suggestion as to how to confront the geth within, "Trying to knock down the front door seems stupid. Maybe we could find a side window?"

"I agree. If we had a ram and a couple of battalions, I'd be singin' a different tune, but we can't afford that now."

Shepard managed to find a way into the base, a small path over to the right side that led straight into the base. It was defended by a single turret, which the Mako's mass accelerator cannon destroyed with ease. Once they actually made it into the base. the three managed to wipe out a few geth foot soldiers before exiting the vehicle and unleashing hell, as Shepard rained down a storm of bullets, Tali utilized her tech skills and pistol to the best of her abilities, and Dâgalûr raised his shield and charged headlong at the troops, impaling them with his blade once in range. Sheathing their weaponry, the squad went to open the gate that would allow them to press on, but not before the half-uruk carved the optical sensor out of one of the trooper's heads as a trophy, cleaning the white cooling fluid off and placing it in one of the many bags at his waist.

The three proceeded to a panel that controlled the gate, but not before opening a nearby armory locker containing an armor set, which was reduced to omni-gel, and a shotgun, which Shepard threw nonchalantly at the warrior behind her, who narrowly caught it before it fell to the ground.

"I know you're good with a sword, but I want you to train with _our_ weapons too. Understood?"  
"All I want is ta' kill shit. F' this does the job, then it does the job." He replied, slinging the weapon around his back.  
"You know, Dâgalûr, violence isn't always the answer to problems." Tali interjected.  
The greyblood responded with a hearty, mocking laugh. What did a _suit-tark_ know about combat? Their people had been driven from their home by glorified scrap metal, when Uruks would've simply relished in the slaughter of the machines.

The three climbed back into the Mako, took their seats, and drove onward, much to Dâgalûr's dismay His stomach contents would settle themselves on the empty seat in front of him if Shepard couldn't learn to drive. They faced two more armatures ahead, each ready to overturn and destroy the Mako. Shepard was not in the mood to get out of the vehicle again, so her solution was rather crude, but effective: drive straight into the armatures at full speed while firing heavy rounds into each's carapace.

The group continued searching for the mining complex containing their target, and reached the entrance to a tunnel that led onward to the dig site, they were attacked by a few standard geth, but faced a new synthetic foe that was the most powerful yet; a Geth Colossus. After turning the cannon fodder into roadkill, they exited the Mako and tried dealing with the behemoth machine. Its cannon and attacks were almost identical to the armatures they had been fighting nonstop, but its size and speed proved to both be quite difficult to deal with. Dâgalûr, shield raised was actually knocked down by how forceful one of the blasts were, as it sent a great burning sensation across his entire body, as if he had been struck by Manwë's furious lightning, and couldn't find the strength to get up until the battle had ended. As he got to his feet, hid hearing cut out, replaced with a loud ringing, and he could feel an unearthly pain and nausea strike him. He yelped and vomited profusely in response to this newfound pain. This vomit was a color he knew too well; it was his own blood. With how silvery it was, he knew he had almost certainly broken a rib that had punctured his stomach, and fell to the ground again, thinking death had come to claim him as he clutched his wound with his clawed gauntlet and his body went cold with the shivers.

Shepard, although annoyed at how her squadmate had charged headlong at a geth three times his height and at least ten times his weight, refused to leave a soldier behind. She and Tali rushed to the half-uruk's position and began to remove his armor. Neither of them were field medics, but the removal of the bone that was clearly jutting out, along with some well placed medi-gel, would get him up and fighting again. Tali gripped the bone, coated in slippery grey blood, and yanked, sending a shockwave of pain through Dâgalûr, who let out an inhuman screech as the rib tore through his flesh. With the bone out, Shepard drew the medi-gel from her omni-tool's inventory, slathering it in and on the wound. It left a burning sensation along the wound to the half-uruk, but it would heal, and he would be ready to fight momentarily should something have awaited him in the tunnel.

"It burns, but I dunno whether to kill ya or kiss ya for doin' that." Dâgalûr said, extending his hand and firmly shaking Shepard's. He proceeded to do the same to Tali, who had freshly disinfected her suit's exterior to prevent cross-species contamination.

The squad climbed back in the Mako and continued through the tunnels, with virtually no resistance to be found. Anything that _did_ stand in their way was reduced to under-tire residue. They eventually reached a passageway too narrow to bring the Mako into, so the three had to press forward on foot. They drew their weapons, knowing what to expect. They came across a battalion of geth, ranging from the now commonplace troopers to rocket-wielding soldiers with red exterior shells, as opposed to the dark grey of the normal troopers and the white of the shock troopers. A sniper began firing at the three from a tower farther back, but a well placed throwing knife from Dâgalûr changed that quickly.

After their encounter with this first wave, the group came across the entrance to the dig site Joker had directed them to earlier. They didn't know it, but they were walking right into an ambush, and a nimble geth platform was underneath the elevated pathway above, waiting to signal it. It leaped down and jumped to the side wall, its gecko-like form clinging to it as a dropship came to drop off an armature and more troops.  
"What in the name of The Void was that?" Dâgalûr, who was in a state of confusion, uttered.  
As the geth hopper units and shock troopers began their harassment of the squad, the three took cover, with Shepard and Tali providing assault rifle and pistol fire, respectively. Dâgalûr took the opportunity to dash from piece of cover to piece of cover, slicing and dicing anything that got within his sword's range as his playlist of songs came to a close. The behemoth fell after a well placed round between its optical receptor and carapace, collapsing with a massive thud.

The squad proceeded up the ramp and entered the complex. With there being no nearby signs of geth activity, Shepard took a moment to see how her companions were faring.

"How are you guys doing so far?"  
"I'm doing pretty well, but even the geth wouldn't want to live in this heat."  
"Even though I just came close ta dyin', I'm revelin' in the slaughter."

The three walked down a steep tunnel, entering a large mining complex. A few geth were left over, presumably to guard the Matriarch's daughter. They were dispatched of quickly, and the team continued onward, walking down more ramps until they reached an elevator. On the wall near the elevator, there was a blue field of energy poking out of the rock. Tali pointed out as they ascended to the next level, "It looks like this cavern formed around the ruin, after it was built."

As they reached the next level, 3 small combat drones attacked, getting close enough for Dâgalûr to cleave two of them down.  
"Pitiful machines! Prepare yourselves for my wrath!"  
The third drone was overloaded by Tali with ease. Another elevator awaited them, and they boarded, tiring of combat. as they reached the top level, there was a loud burst of electricity that startled all three of them, as if something nearby had fried itself. They continued farther into the ruins until they heard a young asari's voice.  
"Uh… hello? Could somebody help me? Please?"

They noticed that the voice came from a 'bubble', made up of the same force field that poked out of the rocks below them. They knew that this asari was their target, and walked over to her.  
"Can you hear me out there? I am trapped. I need help!"  
"Are you okay? What happened to you?"  
"Listen. This _thing_ I'm in is a Prothean security device. I cannot move, so I need you to get me out of it. Alright?"  
Shepard and the Matriarch's daughter started to go deeper into their conversation, but Dâgalûr zoned out for a minute, hearing a faint whisper come from the 'bubble'.  
 _"Your body shall be mine, you filthy mongrel."  
_ He knew this voice, but he could not for the life of him figure out who it belonged to. It had plagued him for years, leading him to become reclusive, as to avoid the voices.

He returned to his normal state, as if nothing had happened, and continued to listen to the conversation.  
"We'll find some way to help you."  
"There is a control in here that should deactivate this thing. You'll have to find some way past the barrier curtain. That's the tricky part. The defenses cannot be shut off from outside. I don't know how you'll get in here. Be careful. There is a krogan with the geth. They have been trying different ways to get past the barrier."

The second the asari finished the sentence, geth manage to attack them from the rear, but they were dealt with swiftly by Tali, as she overloaded their shields and overclocked their hardware, finishing them off with her shotgun.

Shepard, who had proceeded down to the ground level, had quite the plan to get past the bubble.  
"I have an idea. We can use this mining laser to get underneath the force field." She, without the opinions of Tali or Dâgalûr, decided to activate the laser, blasting a hole right through the rock and making it possible to reach the Matriarch's daughter by going under the force field. The squad took an elevator up to the asari's location, surprising her. "How… how did you get in here? I didn't think there was any way past the barrier!"  
"That doesn't matter. We have to get you out of here before more geth arrive."  
"Yes, you're right. I've seen enough of them to last a lifetime. That button should shut down my containment field."  
Shepard pressed the button, and Liara fell to the ground with an "Oof!"

Tali piped up again, "Any idea how we get out of this place?"  
"There is an elevator back in the center of the tower. At least I- I think it's an elevator. It should take us out of here. Come on!"  
The four made their way to the elevator controls, and Liara activated them. "I- I still cannot believe all this. Why would the geth come after me? Do you think Benezia's involved?"  
"Saren's looking for the Conduit. You're a Prothean expert. He probably wants you to help him find it."  
"The Conduit? But I don't know…"  
Liara was cut off by a rumble.  
"Wha' in the name of Sauron's _shrakh_ was that?"  
"These ruins are _not_ stable. That mining laser must've triggered a seismic event. We have to hurry. The whole place is caving in!"  
"Joker! Get the Normandy airborne and lock in on my signal! ON THE DOUBLE, MISTER!"  
"Aye, Aye, Commander. Secure and Aweigh. ETA eight minutes."  
Fear began to set into Tali. "He needs to move faster."

The elevator stopped on the top level, and the four were met with a small squad of geth, led by a krogan commander.  
"Surrender. Or don't. That would be more fun."  
"We don't have time to deal with this idiot. Charge!"  
"I like your attitude." The krogan charged at Shepard, shotgun in hand. Liara sat back, not having a weapon, Tali and Dâgalûr picked off the geth troops one by one, and Shepard dealt with the krogan. When the last few geth were slain, Tali and Dâgalûr charged the krogan, pistol and sword in hand, slaying the alien while he focused down Shepard, With the kogan dead, they unsealed the barrier and made a break for the exit of the complex.

"Move! Move! Move!" Shepard yelled, as the ruins around her collapsed.

They had successfully made it out of the mining complex alive, and with perfect timing, as the Normandy arrived; had they been even a minute late, they'd have been swallowed in a sea of lava. They boarded as fast as they could, and took off. Everybody was sitting in the comm room, waiting for them. Everyone took the seat they sat in at the previous overview, with Liara taking the seat between Dâgalûr and Wrex.

Joker spoke over the intercom, "Too close, Commander. Ten more seconds and we would've been swimming in molten sulphur. The Normandy isn't equipped to land in exploding volcanoes. They tend to fry our sensors and melt our hull."  
Liara was very displeased with Joker's joke. "We almost died out there and your pilot is making jokes?"  
"Joker pulled our asses out of there. I think he's earned the right to a few bad jokes."  
"I see. It must be a _human_ thing.I don't have a lot of experience dealing with your species, Commander, but I am grateful to you. You saved my life back there. And not just from the volcano. Those geth would've killed me, or dragged me off to Saren."

Kaidan interrupted, "What did Saren want with you? Do you know something about the Conduit?"  
"Only that it was somehow connected to the Prothean extinction. That is my real area of expertise. I have spent the past fifty years trying to figure out what happened to them."  
Shepard seemed intrigued. "Just how old are you, exactly?"  
"I hate to admit it, but I am only a hundred and six."  
Ashley looked shocked. "Damn! I hope I look that good when I'm your age."  
"A century may seem like a long time to a short-lived species like yours. But among the asari, I am barely considered more than a child."  
Dâgalûr, being theoretically immortal, scoffed at this remark. "100 years? I've meet Uruk dating back as far as the First Age, hah!"  
"I don't believe I've met a member of your species. Are you new to the galactic community?"  
"I am. Come down to my little space in Storage when this is over and I'll explain."

"Anyway, that is why my research has not received the attention it deserves. Because of my youth, other asari scholars tend to dismiss my theories on what happened to the Protheans."  
Shepard spoke, "I've got my own theory on why the Protheans disappeared."  
"With all due respect, Commander, I have heard every theory out there. The problem is finding evidence to support them. The Protheans left remarkably little behind. It is almost as if someone did not want the mystery solved. It is like someone came along after the Protheans were gone and cleansed the galaxy of clues. But here is the incredible part. according to my findings, The Protheans were not the first galactic civilization to vanish. This cycle began long before them."

"If the Protheans weren't the first, then who was?"  
"I don't know. There is barely any evidence on the Protheans. Even less on those who came before them. I cannot prove my theory. But I know I am right! The galaxy is built on a cycle of extinction. Each time a great civilization rises up, it is suddenly and violently cast down. Only ruins survive. The Protheans rose up from a single world until their empire spanned the entire galaxy. Yet even they climbed to the top on the success of those before. Their greatest achievements- the mass relays and the Citadel- are based on the technology of those who came before them. And then, like all the other forgotten civilizations throughout galactic history, the Protheans disappeared. I have dedicated my life to figuring out why."

"They were wiped out by a race of sentient machines. The Reapers."

"The- the Reapers? But I have never heard of- how do you know this?"  
"There was a damaged Prothean beacon on Eden Prime. It burned a vision into my brain. I'm still trying to sort out what it all means."  
"A beacon? Yes, that makes sense. But the beacons were not programmed to interact with human physiology. I am surprised you were able to make any sense of it at all." "It's just a bunch of random images. Even after I got the Cipher."  
"The Cipher?"  
Ashley interrupted, "Some asari mumbo-jumbo supposed to help the Commander act like a Prothean. Don't know if it worked though."  
"The Cipher altered my perception of the visions. But it's subtle. I still can't make any sense of what I'm seeing."

"And this was something another asari did to you? Hmmm… Commander, with your permission, I would like to try something. You were touched by the beacon. The visions are locked away inside your mind. One of my people gave you a deeper understanding of the visions, but you still cannot put all the pieces of the puzzle together. I might be able to help you."

"I'll do whatever it takes to stop Saren."  
"Like the asari who gave you the Cipher, I can join my consciousness to yours. Maybe my knowledge of the Protheans will help clarify your vision."  
"It's worth a shot."  
Liara approached Shepard and grabbed her shoulders. "Relax, Commander. Embrace eternity!"

Both of them blacked out, and the crew became more and more alarmed by the second, wondering if the young asari was harming the Commander. Both came back to reality a short while later, physically unscathed.

"That was incredible! All this time, all my research! Yet I, I never dreamed… I am sorry, the images were so vivid. I never imagined the experience would be so… intense. You are remarkably strong willed, Commander. What you have been through, what you have seen would have destroyed a lesser mind."

Ashley interrupted again, "Come on, get to the point! What'd you see?"

"The beacon on Eden Prime must have been badly damaged. Large parts of the vision were missing. The data transferred into the Commander's mind is incomplete."  
Shepard spoke, "You sure you didn't come across any clue or hint? Something we might've missed?"

"Everything I saw you already know. You were right about the Reapers. The Protheans were destroyed by a race of sentient machines. I think it's obvious there is a connection between the Reapers, the Prothean extinction, and the Conduit. But I did not see anything that would help us find it."

"Looks like we're back where we started."

"Quite the opposite, Commander. I think my knowledge of the Protheans will prove useful before this is over. Saren knew you touched the beacon on Eden Prime. He probably came after me because he feared I could help you understand it. I was able to interpret the data relayed through your vision. What was there, at least. Find the missing portion an I'm confident I can put all the pieces together."

"Good to have you on the team, Liara."

 _Liara_. Asari names were strange and harsh on the Uruk throat, but Dâgalûr thought it necessary to address this youngling by her name next he saw her.

"Thank you, Commander. I am very gratef- _whoa_. I am afraid I'm feeling a bit lightheaded."

Kaidan asked, "When was the last time you ate? Or slept? Dr. Chakwas should take a look at you."

"It is probably just mental exhaustion, coupled with the shock of discovering the Protheans' true fate. I need some time to process all this. Still, it could not hurt to be examined by a medical professional. It will give me the chance to think things over. Are we finished here, Commander?"  
"We can talk again after you've seen the doctor. The rest of you- dismissed!"  
Everybody rose and went back to their regular positions. The last thing Dâgalûr heard as he went back to the Storage area was, "Mission reports are filed, Commander. You want me to patch you through to the Council?" From Joker.  
Dâgalûr went back to his usual quarters, and caught up on some much needed rest, needing it after throwing out his sword arm fighting all those geth.


	6. Chapter 5: Liara and the Lore-Master

**A/N:** So this chapter is basically an appetizer for Chapter Six. It doesn't hold much overall significance, and is really only there to help give a few characters some much needed spotlight. Hopefully, you guys enjoy this, because Chapter Six will take a while.

* * *

 _ **Chapter Five: Liara and the Lore-Master**_

Dâgalûr awoke rudely with a prod by Laga, an irate look on his inferior's face.  
"Boss, I been thinkin', an' I wanta know... when am I gonna get ta kill somefin'? You's already been measured by dem _tark_ doctors and seen da weird 'virtual reality' fing. Wot's a sorcerer gotta do ta test his new spells n' curses?"  
"Laga, you're a lore-master, not a warrior. Go see the Commander if you's so eager to fight somethin'."  
Laga merely grunted in response, and traveled up the stairs to reach the crew quarters in search of Shepard. Liara bypassed the steaming uruk shaman, hoping to study Dâgalûr. New species fascinated the young archaeologist, even if most of her knowledge lied with long dead ones.

The half-uruk's alone time was short lived, as he was interrupted by the asari. "Do you think I could speak to you for a moment?"  
"What is it?" he said, slightly irritated.  
"Was I interrupting something?"  
"No, but I'd like some peace and quiet is all. First ol' Laga comes in pissed that he's not seen a good fight yet after he wakes me up, then you want ta see me."  
"I see. Perhaps another time then." Liara said dejectedly. She was eager to learn from what the Uruks could teach her and the rest of the galaxy, and getting told to sod off by one of the only two known was rather insulting.  
"No. Y'know what? Take a seat. What did ya want from me?"

Liara complied, taking a seat on some nearby crates, awaiting the knowledge soon to be bestowed on her.

"I would like to know why you... I'm sorry, I do not think I ever caught your name."  
"I am Dâgalûr, the Half-Uruk, Greyblood, both the Overlord and Ghost of Mordor, but just call me Dâgalûr."  
"I see, Dâgalûr. I would like to know more about you and your race. I understand you are new to the galactic community, but would you please tell me about your people's history?"

"Guess I got ta start from the beginning, eh? Start writin' it down, because I ain't gon' ta repeat it." the overlord declared.  
Liara responded by taking out a small datapad, syncing it to her omni-tool, and preparing to write the history of the Uruks.  
"Us Orcs first appeared on the face our world several thousand years ag-"  
"Several _thousand?_ But it would take millions of years for your kind to evolve! How did such a selective and powerful process shorten to just a few thousand years?"  
"Let. Me. Explain." the now disgruntled greyblood emphasized.  
"We were once members of another race. Let's call them the Eldar, the Elves, the First Children, or as I prefer, the _pointy-eared gits_. The First Dark Lord, Morgoth, caputured and bred Elves of all walks of life in his fortress-city. He selected various traits he found suitable for mass-produced soldiers, those being strength, aggression, and later on, hatred. After a few hundred years of breeding, torturing, and corrupting with foul magics, he created the Orcs, or, in our tongue, _Uruk_."

"Magic? Magic does not exist, though. Do you mean synthetics, or perhaps biotics even?"  
" _Noooooo_ , I mean **magic**. Ya see, we don't come from this galaxy, or this universe. The laws of the world are different here from where we came. That's also why there be only two of us as opposed to legion after legion of uruk, armed to the teeth an' ready ta plunder."  
"This is fascinating! Most scholarly asari would kill for a chance like this. Please, continue."  
"Alright. Well, we were bred ta be soldiers originally. Our females were bough' and sold like farm animals, for the sole purpose of-"  
"Laddy, guess who's comin' with ya on the next mission ya go on?" Laga interrupted, panting from running down the stairs.  
"Hm? Wha' is it, Laga? I'm tellin' Liara about tha history of the Orcs."  
"Oi, dat's my job!"  
" _Ughhhh_ , fine, take it from here. I left off at Morgoth's breeding." Dâgalûr asserted, greatly annoyed by his lieutenant's insolence. the half-uruk decided it to be a good time to continue his rudely interrupted nap, but not before going to the second level to grab a bite to eat.

* * *

"So, Laga, please continue from where your companion left off."  
"Gladly. Did ya get Shepard's report on our homeworld?"  
"I was briefed on it by her, yes. She told me you come from a planet known as Arda, and that it is a rather... _varied_ world."  
"Aye. We hail from the region o' Mordor, an ash-filled wasteland in tha northwest, a once lush an' verdant expanse of fields in the south, an' a great desert in tha east."  
"I see. I assume you come from the south, then, yes?"  
"We're scattered every which way. Some of us are livin' in tha south, bossin' the slaves around for food, some of us are livin' in tha east, makin deals with them sneaky Rhûnnic humans, but most of us live in the shadow of tha Dark Lord in tha northwest."  
"Intriguing. You must be quite a hardy and resilient species to have survived in such a climate."

* * *

Laga continued to recite the history of Middle-Earth at Liara's request, starting at Morgoth's defeat in the War of Wrath and his banishment behind the Gates of Night, and went through various events such as the formation, prosperity, and destruction of Númenor, the Battle of the Last Alliance and the downfall of Sauron, the Sweating Sickness that ravaged eastern Middle-Earth, the Battle of the Five Armies, the terror of the Gravewalker and the Shadow Wars, all the way up to the time he left Mordor. Liara asked constant questions along the way.

"By the Goddess! I cannot believe such events could ever happen outside of a work of fiction."  
"Well, you better believe it, because Dâgalûr and I are livin' proof."  
"If you speak the truth, then there is an entire continent of beings that can be introduced into Citadel Space! All we need to do is find your planet and-" The lore-master cut her off.  
"Dere is no chance dat you'll find it."  
"Oh, yes. I forgot about that part."  
"Come to think about it, dere might be no chance that we'll find it again, either." He lowered his head down, realizing he may never see his homeland again. His newfound gloom and sadness was reflected in his voice.  
"Is dere anything else you'd like ta know?"  
"No, but you might want to get into contact with an author. You might be able to get your histories published soon, and be able to introduce yourselves to the rest of the galaxy."  
" _I_ might, but now's not the time for it." Dâgalûr interrupted, having filled himself with some rotting meat that was unusable to most other species.  
"That was all I was curious about. Farewell, Dâgalûr, Laga."  
"Farewell, young one."  
Liara returned upstairs, and Dâgalûr, his belly full enough to burst, returned to his dreams, while Laga scratched his bald head, puzzled by some of the young achaeologist's questions.


	7. Chapter 6: Noveria

I'm not dead yet. Let's continue the story. I really debated on whether or not to throw in the towel on this and leave it forever unfinished, but I know at least one person wants me to see this through to the end, and even I, knowing what will happen, want to see how I can finish this fight. Over n' out, guys, I'll be back soon.

* * *

 _ **Chapter Six: Noveria**_

Shepard's patience was growing thinner by the hour. Saren could have been anywhere in the galaxy, launching another geth attack on a human colony, or finding the Conduit and allowing the Reapers to return and hunt down the races of the galaxy as a wolf hunts sheep, and she had no answers as to what the Conduit was, or how to stop the rogue Spectre. The Cipher and Liara had made sense of her visions, but there was no way to know what Saren was planning. There was still one lead remaining on the snowy, corporation-riddled planet of Noveria, as rumors had been circulating that an asari matriarch in league with Saren had arrived at Port Hanshan. Shepard knew just the archaeologist and warrior to help her reach the matriarch, and hopefully discover her and Saren's next course of action.

* * *

A few hours had passed since the discussion of Uruk history with the budding archaeologist, Liara. Dâgalûr, rested up from his power nap, was itching to stick his sword in someone's throat, feel their gurgling and choking through their vibrations on his blade. The synthetic foes he had previously faced did not live up to the half uruk's expectations, even if they had wounded him. He needed to see _real_ flesh, and _organic_ blood, from a warrior or an innocent, it did not matter. To satiate his thirst for battle, he moved over to the corner, as to be unseen, and took an old, stale piece of bread, wriggling Morgai maggots burrowing all throughout it, out of another sack on his belt, and decided to have another bite to eat. Its crunch was enough to shatter most teeth, but Dâgalûr's would continue their cycle of falling out with use and regrowing indefinitely.

As he finished off the last bit of the bread, Shepard got on the intercom, addressing the crew in Storage.

"Liara and Dâgalûr," she said, "Report to the Command Deck immediately."

Laga, knowing he would accompany his superior on this mission, was rather eager, and grabbed his spider-staff, using it as a walking stick. Dâgalûr grabbed his own weaponry, and the two got up and proceeded to the elevator. They climbed the stairs, the usual routine at this point, and met Shepard and Liara at the Command Deck.  
"Dâgalûr, I know what to expect from you. Liara, Laga, I expect you both to bring your A-game."  
"I plan on it, Commander."  
"Aye."  
The group proceeded to the Normandy's exit, as the doors closed behind them.  
The automated voice said, "Equalizing interior pressure with exterior atmosphere. Logged. The commanding officer is ashore. XO Pressly has the deck."  
The four exited the ship, and were blasted with freezing gusts of wind. They soon knew this mission would probably be as unforgiving and harsh as the environment around them.

They continued around the corner, only to be greeted by two human women and a turian, all of whom appeared to be guards.  
The supposed leader of the three decided to speak up. "That's far enough."  
Shepard spoke on both Liara's and Dâgalûr's behalf. "We're not here to cause problems."  
"This is an unscheduled arrival. I need your credentials."  
"I'm a Spectre. My name is Shepard."  
The second woman, one "Sgt. Stirling", if her badge was any indication, interjected, "Load of horsecrap, ma'am."  
"We'll need to confirm that. Also, I must advise you that firearms are not permitted on Noveria. Sergeant Stirling, secure their weapons."

The Sergeant attempted to get closer to the squad to take their weaponry from them, but Dâgalûr instinctively grabbed his sword, shield raised, Laga reached for his staff, Liara began to flare up her biotics, and Shepard drew her pistol. Shepard and the uruks especially would not let anybody take their weapons for _any_ reason. To uruk-kind, freely giving up a weapon was to admit defeat, and was punishable by execution. Shepard's temper was at its breaking point, and the next slight transgression would send her into a rage that would make the uruks gawk.

"You touch them, an' I'll put some good maggot-holes in your bellies!"  
" _Nobody_ takes my weapon."  
"Charge and lock! We're authorized to use lethal force. You have to the count of three to surrender your weapons."  
This only served to send Dâgalûr into a rage, and he let out a furious warcry to intimidate the guards. This would get ugly soon, and the half uruk was counting on it.  
"One...two...thr-"

She was cut off by a voice over the intercom. "Captain Matsuo, stand down! We confirmed their identity. Spectres are authorized to carry weapons here, Captain."  
The guards stood down, as per their orders, and sheathed their rifles.  
"You may proceed, Spectre. I hope the rest of your visit will be less confrontational. Parasini-san will meet you upstairs."  
Sergeant Stirling had to get the final word in, and quipped "Behave yourself."  
Shepard's crew passed through the next door, but not before Dâgalûr and Laga both snarled at Stirling.

The group went up a flight of stairs to meet a Ms. Gianna Parasini. Shepard began to speak to Parasini, but Dâgalûr began to drift off. His hearing was muffled, and his vision became blurry. The roar of a fire, getting louder and louder, was the only thing he could hear. A loud shriek hurt his ears, and his vision faded to black. Out of the darkness, a shadow, wreathed in flame, appeared before him, glorious power almost radiating from it. It spoke to him, its voice loud and echoing.  
" _Humi-Uruk_ _Dâgalûr… Kayân-GHÂSH! VADOK-KAYÂN!"_  
He knew these words, but they did not register in his mind. Dâgalûr was abruptly drawn from his state, returning to the world of the living once more. He found that the conversation had ended, but nobody had seemed to notice what was going on with Dâgalûr, as he stood at the back of the squad.

Liara felt the need to talk to Shepard, and Dâgalûr drifted off and took in his surroundings. In front of them was a large, chiseled countertop,and to the right, behind them, a small staircase led to Sauron-knows-where. He noticed Shepard and Liara were moving along, so he followed. They followed the staircase, and took an elevator down to their destination. A pre-recorded elevator message began, to dribble on about where they were, "Welcome to Port Hanshan, the galaxy's most respected site for independent scientific research and development. For your own safety, and to protect the privacy of others, you are required to obey any directions given by our security personnel. If you have questions or concerns, our friendly administrative staff is always available. Thank you, and enjoy your stay."

They got off the elevator, and began wandering the area until they found Parasini at her desk. Shepard and her had a chat, but Dâgalûr had a small headache and ringing ears, so he wasn't paying attention. He followed Shepard to the office behind the desk, and his afflictions seemed to go away completely. Was it something about this woman that was cursing him with various ailments? Was it mere chance? The half uruk did not know, and frankly, did not care all that much. Just behind Ms. Parasini was a small door, leading into the office of a "Mr. Bel Anoleis" . The squad entered the office, seeking a way to leave Port Hanshan.

The salarian behind the desk began to speak to Shepard. "You will excuse me if I don't stand up. I have no time to entertain spaceborn vagabonds."  
Dâgalûr already knew this lizard wasn't going to last much longer, speaking to the Commander like that when she was irritable.  
"I see you looked up my service record."  
"Only a fool enters negotiation without knowledge of the other party's tendencies. This greeting is a courtesy. I will only cooperate as required by the Executive Board. Businesses come here to avoid the second guessing of galactic law."  
"I'm not here to investigate your tenants."  
"Nevertheless, I have a responsibility to keep you away from them. Spectres are not encumbered by a need for due process."  
"I've heard an asari matriarch is here. Benezia?"

Anoleis revealed that the matriarch, along with a personal bodyguard of asari commandos, were held up at Peak 15, separated from Port Hanshan by a treacherous mountain pass.

"I'd like to see her immeadiately."  
"I'm afraid that you cannot. Peak 15 is a private facility in the Skadi Mountains. Regardless, there is a blizzard in the area. Shuttles are grounded, and surface access has been cut off."  
"Surface access, you say?"  
"Cut _off,_ I said. The roads are not suitable for travel. Don't make an issue of this, Shepard."  
Dâgalûr was fed up with the stubbornness of the salarian. "Forget this useless _shrakh_. We can get what we need elsewhere."  
Shepard agreed, and the three stepped out, but Parasini approached them, as she'd overheard everything that happened in Mr. Anoleis' office.  
"You've never worked in the corporate world, have you, Commander? You can't bludgeon through bureaucracy."  
"I can bludgeon pretty hard." This got a chuckle out of Dâgalûr.  
"Talk to Lorik Qui'in. You should be able to find him at the hotel bar. Can't say more. Not within earshot of Mr. Anoleis."  
"I've taken up enough of your time."  
"Not at all, Spectre. This is my job, after all."  
The four left the room and made their way to the hotel's bar.

The party reached an elevator on the other side of the massive lobby, and ascended to the bar. They approached a turian at one of the tables, who they believed to be Lorik. "Afternoon. Sit down. Have a drink. What can I do for you?"  
"Are you Lorik Qui'in? I've heard you might be able to help me."  
"You are the Spectre that just arrived, are you not? What could an old turian like me possibly help you with?"  
"I'm trying to find a way into the garage. I have places to go."  
"You need a pass. How fortuitous. I'm the manager of the local Synthetic Insights office. For the moment, at least. Mr. Anoleis closed my office. He claims to be investigating reports of my corruption. The administrator is an... _interesting_ man. He has become quite wealthy since he took control of rents."  
"I sense a connection there."  
"Indeed. I acquired evidence of Anoleis' actions. His hired goons are ransacking my office to find it. I suspect your goal lies outside this port. Mr. Anoleis would be disinclined to let you wander. If you recover the evidence from my office, I will give you my garage pass, as well as a sum of credits."  
"You have a plan?"  
"I do. However, there is one other… oh, what is that charming human expression? 'Fly in the lotion'? Violence against Mr. Anoleis' thugs may be necessary. He has members of Hanshan's security team searching my offices. He's paying them under the table. Ms. Matsuo is unaware of their outside employment."  
"If he's paying them under the table, they're mercenaries. I can kill mercenaries."  
Dâgalûr formed a twisted smile of excitement at the prospect of killing an organic for once. Laga wasn't too far behind in bloodlust, hoping to listen to the screams of the unfortunate as their flesh seared away from one of his stave's fireballs.  
"Excellent! Here is my pass into our offices. It will activate the elevator. The evidence is on my office computer. This OSD contains an encryption key to access it. Slide it into the drive and it will auto-execute. Oh, and do try to keep blood stains off the carpets, would you?"

The group left the bar for the Synthetic Insights office, all prepared to kill if necessary.

Shepard disabled the security cameras in the offices, and the squad took the elevator, reaching the Synthetic Insights elevator shortly after. When they reached the top, they were greeted by two security officers that were searching the office.  
"Freeze! Hanshan security. This office is sealed."  
"What'll you do if I don't?"  
"You're the Spectre, right? Lorik Qui'in is under investigation."  
"Anoleis is paying you to shake this place down. Does Captain Matsuo know you're here?"  
"Hey, I'm not the one who wants Qui'in. Anoleis has a varren up his ass about this guy. How bout this? You pretend you didn't see us, we'll pretend we didn't see you."  
The guards passed by the three, but as soon as they entered the office, the guards turned heel and open fired on them. Liara's biotics flung one of the guards across the room, and Shepard ran for cover. Her pistol tore through one guard's shields, and another well placed round to the helmet blew out their brains. One of Lagas firebals set the last guard ablaze, their screams echoing through the office, which were silenced by Dâgalûr's sword entering the back of the guard's neck, severing the spine with one cleave, and the rest of the head with a second one. They then walked over and retrieved the evidence from Lorik's computer, and headed for the exit. As they reached the center of the office, they were greeted by Sergeant Stirling from earlier, as well as a couple of guards.

"I don't think you're supposed to be in here, Shepard."  
"Do you plan on making me leave?"  
"Leave? You think I'm gonna let you walk out? Uh-uh."  
Dâgalûr chortled and drew his sword, still wet with guard's blood.  
"Anoleis would throw you off world for what you did here. I won't. You know what we did to cop killers on my world?"  
"Did they skin em' alive? Take their teeth as trophies? Eat 'em? Cause' that's what I'm gon ta do to ya if you don't scram."  
Shepard continued, "If you want a fight, I'll give you one."  
"You talk the talk. Let's see if you can walk after I break your legs."  
"Your meat'll taste pretty good when I flay your twitching corpse to get to it, _whore._ "  
A firefight ensued, and Shepard gave Stirling a good pistol shot between the eyes, her visor crumbling to pieces before the metal round entered her skull. The other two guards were finished off with a singularity from Liara, and a bone-crushing bite to the neck from Laga.

"Go on, Shepard, we'll catch up, but ya won't want ta see this."  
Liara and the Commader headed back for the elevator  
Dâgalûr kept his promise, and kneeled down at Stirling's corpse. He took out a small filleting knife, took off the armor at her midsection, and began removing her soft skin with a filleting motion.  
"Laga, salt! We's gonna eat good once we're on the ship!"  
This drew Liara's attention back to the uruks, and she let out a gasp as she saw what barbarism they were committing themselves to. Laga opened up a small, blood-soaked sack and Dâgalûr began putting the meat taken from her corpse into it for later. He tossed it around in the salt littering the bag, closed the bag, and gave it a little shake so the salt could get all over the meat to preserve it for long enough. Liara was beyond horrified by this, but Shepard knew Dâgalûr's behavior well enough at this point. As Shepard and Liara headed back for the elevator, Dâgalûr sunk his teeth deep into Stirling's stomach to get one last mouthful before he left. Laga had gotten a bite, why couldn't he? Regardless, he headed back to the elevator with them, and they all headed back to the bar with Lorik's OSD.

As they stepped out of the elevator, Parasini greeted them with a slightly worried look on her face. Dâgalûr's headache and the ringing sounds in his ears had returned in full force, and had become much worse this time around. On top of that, his vision started to get blurry, and every color he saw was a deep crimson, as if someone had put a bloddied filter over his eyes. He didn't listen to anything Parasini or Shepard were saying, as he could barely hear or see. He still followed them up to the bar, however, and approached Lorik. Shepard spoke with him, then went back to speak with Parasini again. The next thing Dâgalûr knew, Parasini was placing Mr. Anoleis under arrest, but he had no idea why. The three headed to the garage, showed the officer on duty the garage pass, and entered. The second the cold wind of the outside world hit Dâgalûr's face, his symptoms went away.

In the back of the garage, however, a geth hopper decided to rear its photoreceptor, and called for several more geth troops to attack. "That damn Matriarch had MORE of these bastards with her? Is there an endless horde of them?" Dâgalûr said as he nailed one of them to a wall with his sword. After dealing with the geth, several security personnel, including Captain Matsuo, entered the room. Dâgalûr wasn't interested in listening to Shepard and the Captain, so he wandered off, gazing upon the Mako in the center of the garage. Laga joined in with Shepard and Liara as they headed for the nearest Mako that Dâgalûr had tried to board. Shepard popped open the top and all four of them climbed in.

As the vehicle left the garage, Dâgalûr's vision started to fade to black, and the noises of gunshots and explosions all around him began to become quiet. The loud roar of a fire began to take Dâgalûr's ears, as he heard a bloodcurdling screech. He knew the only place such a ghastly howl could come from was the Wraiths. The Nazgûl were near.

* * *

He began to regain his sight, and what he saw before him was the Dead City, illuminated by the pale green glow of corpselight. Minas Morgul was before him. Orc howls and roars were echoing throughout the city and carried across the Mountains of Shadow. The gates of the city opened, and out of the green glow came the Ringwraiths, figures of shadow, cloaked in black, tattered robes. They rode atop monstrous horses, eyes red like manblood. These mounts carried their masters across the bridge over the foul, poisoned waters.  
They shrieked and screamed the words " _SHIRE… BAGGINS…_ "  
Behind them was the very same shadow, cloaked in flames, and it slithered as a serpent does towards him. As the wraiths and the figure creeped closer and closer to Dâgalûr, his strength left him and his vision began to fade again. When the wraiths passed by him, and the shadow gripped his arms, he collapsed and his vision returned to darkness. The roar of fire assaulted his ears again, and the visage of a demon, powerful and terrible, was before him. Its presence could be felt, and his voice pierced the veil between worlds, and Dâgalûr's mind, as well.  
" _DÂGALÛR… DESTROY THOSE WHO WOULD STAND IN OUR WAY_ _…_ " The creature said, its tongue guttural and perverse, " _ARMSTRONG… GAGARIN… RAYINGRI…_ " It repeated, " _KILL THEM ALL... YOU SHALL BE MY CATALYST..._ "

* * *

Dâgalûr was suddenly awakened by a bright flash of light, and he began to regain his senses, one by one.  
He could hear Liara's muffled voice saying "Is he alright?"  
"He's not movin, wha' do ya think?"  
"I don't know. Dâgalûr, can you hear me?" He tried to nod his head, but his body had gone stiff. He began to moan to try and signal a 'yes'.  
"I think he heard that. Try something else."  
Shepard began to violently shake Dâgalûr, and he could finally move again. His senses had been restored, and he could move again.  
"Stop, Shepard! I'm awake!"  
"What the hell happened? Looked like you were having a seizure back there."  
"I don't know what happened. I blacked out… and some sort of demon beckoned to me."  
"What?"  
"Minas Morgul appeared before me, and it commanded me to 'You will be my catalyst… Armstrong, Gagarin, Rayingri..."  
"Those are coordinates to a planet, Dâgalûr. I need to know, though, did this impair your ability to fight? If it did, we've gotta get you back to the ship. Regardless, I want Doctor Chakwas to look you over once we're done here."  
"I think I'll manage. Let's just get going." Shepard complied, and they made their way to Peak 15.

As Shepard had eliminated most of the opposing geth troops while Dâgalûr was out cold, the trip was fairly quick. After a few minutes of traversing the snow trodden path to Peak 15, the squad reached the garage of the facility, exiting the Mako and heading inside. The second they entered the complex, Dâgalur began to feel a pounding headache, his ears began to ring, and all the colors that surrounded him had turned to shades of bloodied red. He collapsed to the floor, barely catching himself. A compulsion had wormed its way into his mind, and it commanded him to search for and devour all who stood in his way.

He could see the outlines of the living through their body heat, and began to develop a desire to hunt them all down and eat from them. His senses of hearing and smell had increased tenfold, and he could tell where his prey hid without having to use his eyes. His gray gums began sprouting multiple rows of needle-like teeth in front of his primary ones, and his irises turned from blue and green to a vibrant scarlet, while the scleras of his eyes blackened. He had become feral, and his will and reasoning had been consumed by the Uruk Blood-Rage.

Dâgalûr abandoned his weapons, needing only his teeth and claws, and threw his helmet to the ground, revealing his short, black hair. He punched the control panel of the garage door full-force, causing sparks to fly out wildly as the door retreated into the ceiling. He charged into the center of the room, and soon learned that he had walked straight into an ambush. As a Geth Juggernaut charged him, Dâgalûr let out a triumphant roar to assert his dominance, and charged it head on. He began to rip and tear at its legs until there was nothing but stumps covered in the white synthetic fluid that had been strewn about the floor. He gazed right into its photoreceptor and ripped it out of the juggernaut's head, causing it to wildly screech and cry out until it bled to deactivation.

Two krogan mercenaries began to rush Dâgalûr with shotguns, but this proved to be a poor choice, as Shepard and Liara rushed to the half-uruk's aid, placing a third krogan in the back of the garage into a singularity and gunning him down, all while taking care of a few other geth and a repair drone. Dâgalûr sunk his teeth into the scaly arm of the first krogan, causing him to yell in pain as the bite sunk in deeper and deeper, until he reached the bone and snapped right through it with a swift bite. The mercenary fell to the ground screaming, and the feral beast turned to the second krogan, who was unable to get a clear shot on Dâgalûr beforehand. He used his shotgun to try and stop him, but it did not so much as pierce the berserker's armor, let alone injure him.

He grabbed the krogan by the shoulders and simply snarled at him, opening his mouth wide and piercing the merc's neck with his teeth, ripping into the flesh within. As the second krogan bled out on the floor, the first got up and tried to stop Dâgalûr, tackling him to the ground. Dâgalûr's response was simple and efficient, as he grabbed both sides of the mercenary's head and pulled, tearing it off after enough force had been applied.

After both of the krogan finally died, Dâgalûr grabbed the face of the decapitated heaf and began to eat it, tearing through bone, flesh, and scale, all the while making a sickening crunch noise. Shepard and Liara had turned back towards the half uruk, and were too horrified to even move. Liara had almost vomited when she saw that one of the mercenaries had his face half eaten, including an eye. Dâgalûr, halfway through eating the face of that mercenary, regained control of his own will once more, and his needle-teeth fell out, scattered on the garage floor. The Blood-Rage had passed.

Laga knew what had happened to Dâgalûr once he had collapsed, and retreated to the Mako during the carnage in the hopes he would not be one of his master's targets. The sight he walked in on was a terrible one; the Juggernaut lied on the ground, the photoreceptor ripped from its socket, with stumps where its legs were. The krogan mercenaries were thrown about, their orange blood painting the room. Metal clanks could be heard near the entrance of the room. Shepard and Liara looked back at Dâgalûr, covered in both white and orange blood, picking up his weapons and helmet he had discarded.

Shepard yelled across the room to him, trying to figure out what had happened. "What the _fuck_ did you do here?"

"Are you talkin' to me?"

"Yeah. What happened?"

"It was the Blood-Rage. It took me in its grasp and wouldn't let go."

"What the hell are you going on about? Only krogan have been known to go into Blood Rages. Is that why you obliterated that geth and those poor bastards over there?"

Laga interrupted, "Yes, yes it was. The Blood-Rage is a natural occurrence in some of us Uruk. It happens about once about every year, when our primal instincts to kill and our desire for war take full control. Once an Uruk begins a Blood-Rage, they'll attack anything they can find, and it doesn't stop until the Uruk's thirst for violence and death has been quenched. We've been able to suppress our Blood-Rages for over fifty years, but the unfamiliar sights and sounds of your world must've allowed his to start up again."

"So you're saying that if we had sent you back to the ship, you could've killed the entire crew?"

"Yeah. I would've tried to kill both of you, too, if you hadn't hid. I could've chained myself up to try and stop myself, but there was no guarantee that the chain wouldn't'a broke. It's over, and we can move on, that's all tha' matters now."

"Then let's go."

* * *

The four continued into the complex, as a voice spoke over the intercom continuously, spouting various bits of dialogue as they moved farther into the facility. They entered a small room with turrets facing the wrong way, and found an elevator to the next level. The next room was quite large, but geth were lying in wait for an ambush. They were dispatched of quickly, but a piercing, insect-like squeal was uttered from the vent shafts, and footsteps could be heard. Dâgalûr grabbed his sword, a foul curse pulsating from it.  
"Come out, come out, wherever you are, you little _shrakh_." He said, walking softly.

As the three passed by a small office, the creature from the vents dropped down, and another attacked from the front with several smaller ones. The creatures had the faces and bodies of shellfish, but their carapaces had four outstretching legs. Upon their backs, they possessed long, tentacle like whips, with which to attack.

" _Ungol_!" Dâgalûr shouted as he charged forward.

His sword pierced the hide of the one from the vents, causing it to cry out in pain as the blade twisted and turned, burning up as the cursed energy took hold. The swarm was dealt with in the bullet storm coming from Shepard's assault rifle, while the second one was thrown across the room by Liara and set ablaze by Laga. Shepard took a snapshot of one of the dead insectoids with her omni-tool, unsure of what species these aliens were.

The group began to search the complex, finding more of the creatures. They also discovered an elevator, ascending to the next level in it, only to be greeted by more creatures. The room they had entered appeared to be a control room of some sorts, containing entrances to multiple locations.

"The damage here is not extensive. It could be repaired." Liara spoke.

The voice from the intercom spoke once more, demanding a 'manual reboot'. Shepard alone descended the core of the VI, repaired it, and conversed with it in order to find a way to Benezia. She returned up to the previous level, and instructed Liara and Dâgalûr to follow her to the elevator to the Main Reactor. Geth waited for them when they arrived, but they were no match for the squad, and were disposed of with a singularity and a few spells from Laga.

Shepard repaired the fuel lines of the facility, and the party headed back to the control room. More of the creatures from earlier began ascending through an open part of the floor, but they weren't a major threat, and Dâgalûr carved them to bits. The party took the elevator to the roof, and were met with even more creatures. Shepard repaired the landlines after the creatures were eliminated, and activated a Virtual Intelligence terminal to speak with Mira, the VI from earlier. The conversation was brief, but Dâgalûr paid no heed to it, having enough of this mission.

They took the elevator back to the control room, only to be met with even more creatures crawling up from the open vent in the floor.  
Dâgalûr was getting irritated now. "Do these monsters ever stop coming?"

The elevator to the Transit Hub was now active, and the party used it to try to get to the Matriarch's location. In the first room of the next level, two of the creatures were sealed in in an adjacent room, with a large window separating them from the party.

"At least the filthy little _shrakhs_ are locked in."

A body was lying on the ground on their side of the room, in the back corner. A hazy recording revealed that the man had killed himself before the creatures could.

"So he offed himself because o' those creatures?" "He must've felt there was no hope in surviving. Killing himself would be easier." Laga remarked.

Shepard had to override the lock on the doors fencing the creatures in, so that they could pass through. As nobody had enough knowledge of electronics, the creatures had to be confronted head on. They were slaughtered with relative ease, and the party pressed on to the Transit Station.

The group boarded a tram to the Rift Station, and got to the opposite station fairly quickly. When they arrived at the next station, they took the nearest elevator up to the next level. Instead of creatures threatening them, however, this time guards pointed their weapons at the squad.

The captain had to order the guards to sheath their weapons. "Stand down. Sorry, we couldn't be sure what was on the tram."  
"I'd do the same. What's going on here?"  
"Bugs. Zillions of em', coming up the tunnels from the hot labs. My team's been running on stims for days. Look, you're human, and that's enough that I won't shoot. But I'd like to know who you are."  
"My name's Shepard. I'm a spectre."  
"Huh. I won't look a heavily-armed horse in the mouth. The aliens overran the hot labs last week. Only Han Olar got out, and he ain't all there anymore. The first we knew, the bastards were clawing into my command post. We had a lot more staff then."  
"You were taken by surprise and had civilians to protect. You did a good job, Captain."  
"Yeah? Sure as hell doesn't feel like it. The board sent an asari to clean up the mess. She went to the hot labs yesterday. We haven't heard from her since."  
"I'm not going to let any of your people die."  
"All I can do is hold out here and protect the civilians. There's an emergency elevator out by the trams. This card will let you activate it. It can take you down to the hot labs. Oh, if you need any first aid, Dr. Cohen's downstairs in the med bay."  
"I've got work to do."  
"Yeah, I hear th-"

Gunshots and the screeches and cries of the creatures cut the captain off. "Hell! Man the perimeter!"

The creatures began to crawl up in the open vent behind the party, but the continuous stream of bullets, biotics, and spells managed to ward them off.  
"Thanks for the help. Every few hours, a group comes up the tram tunnel. It's actually better since we locked down the elevator."  
"I'll do whatever I can."  
"I don't know why they keep throwing themselves against our defenses. Even animals should learn not to stick their noses where it hurts."

Shepard and the party headed into the mess hall, and Shepard began to question the civilians in the area. She headed down a flight of stairs to be greeted by Dr. Cohen, who was trying to resuscitate two people. Shepard inquired on what had happened to them, and Dr. Cohen said that an antidote could be synthesized in a contaminated area. Shepard headed back to the mess hall, and had to argue with a turian guard to try to get into the area that was supposedly contaminated. She quickly synthesized an antidote, but was cornered by an asari and two geth, who were all in league with the Matriarch. Dâgalûr let out a bull-like roar and charged the asari head on, who was overwhelmed by a 300 pound half-Uruk tackling her. As the geth were dispatched of, Dâgalûr decided to simply break the asari's neck with his hands, as he had no interest in eating anymore.

The party left the area, only to find the turian guard dead on the ground. Shepard questioned the sole survivor of the original outbreak of the creatures, Han Olar, and found out that the creatures that had been continuously assaulting the security team and the party were the Rachni, a race thought to be long-dead. Shepard and Laga were fairly skeptical, Liara was amazed, and Dâgalûr didn't care. The squad headed back to Dr. Cohen, who gave them some medi-gel and a pass to get into the maintenance area. Shepard lead the squad into the maintenance area, which was coated in ice and snow, and encountered more rachni, which were killed off just as all of the ones the squad had come across were.

* * *

The squad didn't know that the maintenance area was actually a shortcut to the back of the hot labs, which was where the Matriarch was hiding out. As soon as they left maintenence, they were confronted with the target they had spent all this time looking for.  
The Matriarch spoke in a condescending tone, cold and almost lifeless. "You do not know the privilege of being a mother. There is power in creation. To shape a life. Turn it towards happiness or despair. Her children were to be ours." She referenced the massive Rachni in a holding cell, which was screeching and trying to escape. "Raised to hunt and slay Saren's enemies. I won't be moved by sympathy. No matter who you bring into this confrontation."  
"Liara's here because she's a member of my crew."  
"Indeed? What have you told her about me, Liara?"  
"What could I say, mother? That you're insane? Evil? Should I explain how to kill you? _What could I say_?"  
"Have you faced an asari commando unit before? Few humans have."  
"We are no _tarks_ , we are of Uruk stock!" Dâgalûr shouted as he drew Pauzûlshapât from his belt, its blade whispering in the tongue of Mordor, fouling the air around it.  
"I can't believe you'd kill your own daughter."  
"I now realize I should have been stricter with her."

The Matriarch used biotics to cement the squad in place as asari commandos entered to protect her. When the squad regained control again, the commandos flung Shepard around like a ragdoll, but Dâgalûr cleaved through them like a knife through butter. Shepard fell to the ground with a thud, and applied medi gel to herself as a second wave of commandos was called in alongside a few geth units. The commandos were quickly eliminated with Liara's pistol, while Shepard riddled the geth with bullets. Another wave was called in to stop the squad, but they knew the routine by now. Benezia was weakened with each passing wave, and was on her last legs after the third wave.

"This is not over. Saren is unstoppable. My mind is filled with his light. Everything is clear."  
"The rachni didn't cooperate with you, why should I?"  
"I will not betray him. You will...you...you must listen. Saren still whispers in my mind. I can fight his compulsions. Briefly. But the indoctrination is strong."  
"So you could turn on me again?"  
"Yes. But it would not be my will, Shepard. People are not themselves around Saren. You come to idolize him. Worship him. You would do anything for him. The key is Sovereign, his flagship. It is a dreadnought of incredible size and its power is extraordinary."  
"The ship that attacked Eden Prime? I didn't think anything that size could land on a planet."  
"It has a very powerful mass effect drive. But that is not Sovereign's true power. The longer you stay aboard, the more Saren's will seems correct. You sit at his feet and smile as his words pour into you. It is subtle at first. I thought I was strong enough to resist. Instead I became a willing tool, eager to serve. He sent me here to find the location of the Mu Relay. Its position was lost thousands of years ago."  
"Someone on Noveria found it?"  
"Two thousand years ago, the rachni inhabited that region of our galaxy. They discovered the relay. The rachni can share memories across generations. Queens inherit the knowledge of their mothers. I took the location of the relay from the queen's mind. I was _not_ gentle."  
"You can still make it right. Give me the information."  
"I was not myself, but - I should have been stronger. I transcribed the data to an OSD. Take it. Please."  
Liara stepped into the conversation. "Knowing the relay's coordinates is not enough. Do you know where he planned to go from there?"  
"Saren wouldn't tell me his destination. But you must find out quickly. I transmitted the coordinates to him before you arrived. You have to stop - me. I can't - His teeth are at my ear. Fingers on my spine. You should - uh, you should -"  
"Mother, I - Don't leave! Fight him!"  
"You've always made me proud, Liara!"

She paused as Saren's will overtook her mind once more. "-Die!"  
She suddenly attacked Shepard, flinging her around with biotics, but she was tackled by Dâgalûr. Shepard got up, took out her assault rifle, and started firing at Benezia, who was still trying to get up. Shepard managed to do enough damage to keep her down and to give Benezia her will back.

"I cannot go on. You will have to stop him, Shepard."  
"Hold on. We've got medi-gel, maybe we can -"  
"No. He is still in my mind. I am not entirely myself. I will never be again."  
"Mother…"  
"Good night, little wing, I will see you again with the dawn. No light? They always said there would be - Ah…" She had drawn her final breath, not knowing if her afterlife would truly be there.

The rachni queen now looked upon the party, screeching and suckling on the glass. The corpse of one of the commandos suddenly began to rise and shamble towards the squad. It spooked Shepard and Liara, but it didn't phase Dâgalûr.

"I swear, I didn't raise it from the grave to fight for me." Laga quipped.

The corpse began to speak on behalf of the queen.

"This one serves as our voice. We cannot sing. Not in these low spaces. Your musics are colorless." The corpse was constantly twitching, and appeared to have difficulty speaking.  
Its statement only confused Shepard further. "Musics? What?"  
"Your way of communicating is strange. Flat. It does not color the air. When we speak, one moves all. We are the mother. We sing for those left behind. The children you thought silenced. We are Rachni."  
"How are you speaking through her?"  
"Our kind sing through touchings of thought. We pluck the strings, and the other understands. She is weak to urging. She has colors we have no names for. But she is ending. Her music is bittersweet. It is beautiful. The children we birthed were stolen from us before they could learn to sing. They are lost to silence. End their suffering. They cannot be saved. They can only cause harm as they are."  
"Are you're sure they can't be saved?"  
"It is lamentable. But necessary. Do what you must. Before you deal with our children, we stand before you. What will you sing? Will you release us? Are we to fade away once more?"

"They made a mistake. They let the krogan go too far. This is a chance for us to atone. She has done nothing to us."  
"Think, Shepard. Those vats of acid are up there. If those wars of yours were anything to go by, more people could die for no reason. Then again, these bugs might be able to be used as a weapon, like the _Ungol_ back home."  
"Your companions hear the truth. You have the power to free us, or return our people to the silence of memory."

Shepard couldn't single-handedly doom a species to extinction, especially not for a second time. If the Reapers were the threat the Protheans made them out to be, every hand would be needed for war.  
"I won't destroy your entire race. You'll go free." "  
You will give us the chance to compose anew? We will remember. We will sing of your forgiveness to our children."  
"It was your call, Shepard. I won't judge your decision."

The corpse fell to the floor, and Shepard used the control panel to release the queen. Shepard ordered Liara, Laga, and Dâgalûr to head back to the tram, as she had to head to the hot labs to deal with the remaining rachni. After about five minutes, the three heard a deafening explosion. Shepard returned, and the squad headed back for the Normandy.

* * *

When they arrived, they headed down to the comm room, and were greeted by the remaining crew members.  
Ashley began to speak as the four sat down. "What's our next move, Commander? Head for the Mu Relay?"  
"The Mu Relay could link to dozens of systems. Unless we know exactly where Saren's going, we'd just be wasting our time."  
"The Commander is right. We cannot rush off blind. We still need to know more about Saren." Liara said, an expression of worry plastered on her face.  
"Who put you in charge? Did the Commander resign when I wasn't looking?"  
"I'd shut your gob if I were you, _kurv_."  
"We're all on the same team here, Williams. She's just trying to help."  
"Sorry, Commander."  
"This is a tough mission. We're all on edge. Everyone, go get some rest. Crew… dismissed!"

Dâgalûr and his companion got up to leave, and the last thing they heard was Joker replying to Shepard, "Noveria report is away, Commander. You want me to patch you through to the Council?


End file.
